


From One Fulcrum to Another

by MirrorandImage



Series: Ghost Drabbles [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Becoming a Rebel, Becoming a Spy, Betrayal, Gen, spy games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorandImage/pseuds/MirrorandImage
Summary: When Kallus finally makes the decision, the final plunge into being a Rebel, his first transmission is to an accented man with the title of Fulcrum. Earning the title himself, Kallus is given advice. From one Fulcrum to another.





	1. Chapter 1

_ "It won't be easy, there'll be... loss and sacrifice... but we can't back down just because we're afraid. That's when we need to stand the tallest." _

Kallus listened to the transmission, Bridger's simple declaration of war, with only one ear as he filed through the reports. Ostensibly, listening to that transmission was to pick apart information – it had likely been made from the _Ghost_ , and he had taken the transmission through every filter, every modifier and deconstruction program he could to learn more about the Lothal Rebels. Nothing he learned told him where the Rebels were, nothing told him how that damn ship always managed to slip passed Imperial blockades, nothing told him where the Rebel base was.

But... he had learned that the rest of the crew had been there when Bridger made the transmission. The detail had merit, and at first Kallus had thought it simply meant that the crew was just that: simply there, watching Bridger's plea to the galaxy, doing other tasks of terrorism. It was only now, after Geonosis, after seeing Garazeb Orrelios – after seeing _Zeb_ – save his life and act honorably, after watching the _Ghost_ crew welcome their lost crewman with open arms and warm smiles and...

Now Kallus thought the crew was there deliberately. The transmission had been made right after Kanan Jarrus' capture, a (temporary) victory for the Empire and a solid blow to the Lothal Rebels. There was the faintest crack in Bridger's voice ("... _loss and sacrifice..._ "), a tone Kallus originally took satisfaction in, but now he listened to that transmission, listened to the barely audible sounds of the rest of the crew, and he felt... Zeb had shown him...

Kallus frowned and turned the recording off, ending the loop. The words were worming their way into his head, he had been listening too long. He grabbed his collection of datapads instead and stood, stretching his legs and arcing his back before leaving his office. Caf, he needed caf.

He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. The Lothal Rebels were worthy of respect, of course, he had put down enough rebel cells to see that this group was principled, disciplined. They were a delicious challenge at first, but when Moff Tarkin had arrived...

Grint and Aresco were hardly ringing endorsements for the Empire, certainly, and disciplinary actions were necessary for their slip ups, but having that dark creature _behead them_ with a red blade was overkill. Demotion, certainly, reassignment definitely, both of which Kallus had recommended in his reports, but _execution_? And with Jarrus' capture, the dark creature again had acted... inappropriately. Inflicting pain to get information was one thing, but it was hardly a task to be _enjoyed_.

But this was a rebel cell, and a firm hand was necessary when dealing with it. Kallus had done his part, starved planets to get the Lothal Rebels' attention, tried to flush them out for capture and end the game. But it didn't feel... Captain Syndulla had defied everything, arrived in some unknown ship design and _decimated_ his blockade, a show of creative flare and inspired flight that Kallus felt... No, he did not feel inspired, that was a poor choice of words.

At the commissary he got his caf and a protein loaf, utilitarian fare to replenish lost nutrients and get his head out of its rut. He didn't need to reverse engineer his feelings, feelings were irrelevant in the Empire and he needed his head in the _game_ , in figuring out how to capture the Rebels.

The Rebels who's biggest brute, who's thickest crew member, who's _Lasat_ had broken all preconceived notions and shown him kindness on Geonosis' moon. Kallus would likely never shake the memory of Saw Garrera's rebel cell (still not caught) and bloodthirsty Lasat, moving through bodies and finishing the job with his bo-rifle. He had never seen a Lasat before then, had hardly even heard of the species, and that one moment crystallized what they were: brutes. Blood-soaked, unfeeling, murderous brutes. He had volunteered for the Lasat campaign, eager to get his licks in and show them what for, so to speak.

He had not signed up for massacre. He had not signed up for genocide.

And he most definitely had not signed up for the last living Lasat to look upon him, to see Kallus rub the brute's face in the massacre, to fight that big oaf so bitterly, only to have that same Lasat show him kindness.

It wasn't even a _question:_ they were fighting in an escape pod, the landing was so rough as to break his leg, and the thought of finishing off the Impy who had slaughtered his people didn't even enter Zeb's mind. He just set the leg, calm as you please, filtered through the wreckage for a distress signal and offered him food and warmth. That damned moon rock was still in his room, his first and only personal adornment, a testament to... something Kallus wasn't ready to admit yet.

And that was the problem. He wasn't ready to admit this... this _thought_ he had in his head, as he watched Konstantine barely acknowledge even his closest crew members, saw Governor Pryce look down her nose at her subordinates and relish the idea of torturing the Lothal Rebels, witnessed Moff Tarkin execute members of the Empire in loyal standing for being less than perfect. The thought that something wasn't right.

" _I remember when things were better... maybe not great but better than this..._ "

Kallus shook his head. If it wasn't critical evidence necessary to find the Rebels he would delete that transmission and never listen to it again.

* * *

He could still remember the Lasan campaign, the heat of the day, stormtroopers moving per his command, the orbital bombardment before the Lasat came up from underground caves from... _somewhere_... and fought like the fabled Jedi of old – taking down dozens of men with swift and efficient sweeps of their bo-rifles. He remembered the retreat that night, dragging bodies back to the encampment, being forced to leave men behind. He remembered the order to use the T-7 ion disruptors. He remembered someone asking command, "Have they been field tested yet?"

"Consider this the field test, trooper."

Dawn broke already hot, the only thing in the skies were the star destroyers, blockading escape. He remembered going down into the caves, armed with the disruptors, remembered the stormtroopers jumping at every shadow, the minerals in the soil interfering with their sensors, forced only to trust their eyes.

It was a scout trooper who first fired. A group of Lasat fell upon them from above, and the trooper was just perceptive enough to notice and aim up to fire, the sight clear in Kallus' mind, the stray thought of _will it hit without targeting_ , and he remembered the _smell_. Smoke and cooked meat and instant decay all rolled up into one as the other Lasat continued to fight, more stormtroopers firing, some hitting, some not. Kallus was shouting orders, was trying to keep the troops calm amidst the surprise attack, and then commanding them to follow when one of the Lasat managed to escape. It was a harried chase, echoes of other engagements in the caves.

So many screams.

So many... puddles.

That was the effect of the ion disruptors, the Lasat were not simply killed, they were reduced to puddles of matter and armor, bo-rifles littering the ground and several stormtroopers taking them to use as savagely as they were used against the soldiers. Kallus' pace slowed as it finally dawned on him what the weapons were doing. He watched as the Lasat screamed bloody murder at the pain, watched the... the bubbling and the smoke, watched them fall as their deaths consumed them.

Kallus was in a tunnel, heaving at what was transpiring around him, sick with the weapon in his hand. He glared at the monstrosity, pulled the strap over his head and threw it away. He would not be responsible for that kind of death, that brutal savagery, that lack of honor. War was messy business, but it was not _this_ kind of business...

* * *

"Agent Kallus?"

The ISB agent snapped out of the memory, blinking and looking up. Lieutenant Lyste was there, with a tray of food, looking down.

"May I sit with you?"

Kallus blinked slowly before nodding, moving his pile of 'pads. He hadn't touched his protein loaf.

"Any luck in finding the Rebels?" Lyste asked.

Kallus shook his head. "They have always been elusive, more so now that they have taken up with others. We were close on Garrel, but I have not heard much since."

"Oh, then you haven't heard the most recent report!" the Lieutenant said. He glanced through the pile by Kallus and pointed out the one he needed. The ISB agent pulled it out and opened it, and his eyes doubled in size.

"Vader?" he said, eyes scanning the relevant points.

"Indeed! In person if you read the report. The Jedi leadership is finished, and so were the ones with them."

Kallus stared at Lyste, unbelieving, mind unable to comprehend what he had just heard. The Jedi leadership? Kanan Jarrus? The ones with him? The crew of the _Ghost_? Ezra Bridger? … Zeb?

"Apparently I need to catch up on some reports," Kallus said curtly.

"I quite understand," Lyste said. "I don't mind the quiet. I've heard I'm being reassigned soon, my work as Supply Master at the Capitol might have at last been noticed. If it has then I can put my good work in other areas. I wonder if we'll work together?"

"Who can say...?" Kallus muttered, eyes raking over the datapad. Vader's report was terse to the point of reticent, there were hardly any details. The ISB training in him chaffed but Kallus had long understood that not every wing of the Empire was used to being thorough. A planet Kallus had never heard of: Malachor, an underground temple of some kind, collapsing the temple on top of the Rebels – all dead.

He is eyes soaked in the letters, the aurbesh barely recognizable. All dead. _All dead_.

Bridger... Zeb...

Zeb...

* * *

The massacre on Lasan had turned his stomach, quite literally. He had staggered through the tunnels, ion disruptor kicked aside, trying to unhear the screams, trying to unsmell the scent. He'd lost his troopers, everyone following orders but him, trapped in the chaos going on around him.

A meaty hand had grabbed his shoulder and twisted, Kallus nearly snapped his neck at the turn, and was lifted up easily, held by the grey-purple hand of a Lasat, green eyes wide and filled with rage. The enemy...!

Fighting instinct took over after that, Kallus grabbed the fist holding him up and wrapping his legs around the arm, twisting his entire body and breaking free. He landed in a handspring and kicked out, using the momentum to roll up to his feet. The Lasat had staggered back, holding it's chest, but also reaching back for its weapon. Kallus wouldn't survive unarmed, and he rushed forward, crouching to make himself even smaller and angling his shoulder to hit below the waist. The Lasat squawked and took another step back, Kallus wrapped his arms around the waist and struggled in earnest. The two fought for footing – the Lasat had height and mass but Kallus' brain was on fire, overstimulated and desperate to stay alive.

Without footing the ISB agent changed tracks, instead swinging his out and between the Lasat's, sliding under his enemy and then scrambling up the creature's back. The bo-rifle was still there, had not yet been pulled out, and that was Kallus' objective. The Lasat swung him off, though, and Kallus landed on his back and rolled out to his feet as fast as he could. Not fast enough, the weapon was out and extended into its bo setting, ends sparking with electricity. If that touched him he would be dead.

Someone screamed up the tunnel, a high pitched gurgling sound, the result of the ion disruptors and Kallus' stomach turned as he rushed for the rifle. The Lasat guardsman had excellent form but Kallus had trained in all forms of weaponry, ducking under a swing and his muscles calculating the next blow. The fight was intense, the guardsman with superior size and range, Kallus with agility and ingenuity. Kallus got on its back again and finally managed a choke hold, legs wrapped around the Lasat's waist to prevent being knocked off. It bucked and roared, tried to strike Kallus without shocking himself, but all beings had to breath, and as the oxygen ran out it stumbled to its knees.

Kallus was panting from his exertion, hair askew and in his face, waiting, _waiting_ for the right moment.

The bo-rifle dropped, and Kallus immediately let go, diving for the weapon and throwing it aside. Now they were on even footing. He turned to the Lasat guardsman, watched it struggle for air before standing. It glared at him, green eyes indignant that Kallus had given it the chance to get back up again. The Lasat gave a great roar, arms spread out and intimidating, and Kallus realized it might have been a stupid idea to hand out a second chance at an honorable fight to a species that was so savage. It lumbered forward, faster than Kallus had yet experienced, and grabbed at his breastplate, lifting him up in the air as another Lasat barged in, bubbling and screaming as it fell to its death. Kallus saw the body liquefy, what had once been a moving, living organism devolving into a puddle of goo, the smell overwhelming in the small cavern. The ISB agent thought he would be sick again.

The guardsman saw the slaughter and turned hate-filled eyes to Kallus.

"Murderer!" it shouted.

"I'm sorry!" Kallus shouted. "I had no idea the disruptors would do this! I had no idea this is what would happen!"

"But it _did!_ "

"I know! I know! I have no right to beg forgiveness for this! This is inhuman! Barbaric! Lacking all honor!"

Kallus never understood what had made him speak so freely. Fear was of course part of it, but Kallus was a soldier, he knew what fear was and how to defeat it, how to compartmentalize it and stand strong in spite of it. This was something else that had loosened his tongue, something he didn't have a name for, didn't know how to identify. But it was that thing, whatever it was, that the Lasat noticed. Kallus' raving had triggered something in the Lasat, and the ISB agent was slowly lowered to the ground.

"Run, Child," the Lasat said, "Before the Warrior tries to take you."

Kallus stumbled under his own weight, weak in the knees, but got his feet under him. He looked up to the Lasat, and the green eyes were no longer filled with rage, but rather something else. The lumbering creature grabbed its bo-rifle from where it had landed. Kallus stiffened, wondering if the bid to run was for sport rather than mercy, but the Lasat held it out, expecting Kallus to take it.

"I... I don't understand."

"You are a Child now, but one day you will be a Warrior, and you should have a weapon suited for a Warrior, rather than a weapon of a Fool."

Kallus reached out, hand shaking, and took the bo-rifle.

Then there was the sound of a shot, and a disruptor bolt hit the Lasat. The creature grunted, falling almost immediately, and behind him were two stormtroopers, half running towards them. "We found him, report to the commander; he had been captured by a Lasat!"

"You _fools_!" Kallus shouted. The Lasat started screaming, the pain of the ion disruptor overtaking whatever Kallus was about to say. The ISB agent crouched down, bo-rifle forgotten, gloved hands roving over the injury, trying to do something, to fix something.

"Bogan take you...!" the Lasat growled.

"Shh, it'll be alright," Kallus said, holding a shoulder and unable to think of anything else. It would be anything but alright, the wound burned through the Lasat, Kallus could feel the heat through his gloves, the insides were beginning to melt, he could feel the rib cage turn to slush. The Lasat screamed while he still had lungs, eyes wide with pain, but right before the end, the noise faded away. And eerie calm settling over agonized features, and those haunting green eyes turned to Kallus.

His last words were,

"... Ashla will save you..."

* * *

Something inside Kallus shifted, sitting there in the commissary with Lyste across from him and reading a 'pad. The face of that doomed Lasat being overlaid with Zeb's face, the body melting away into a puddle. He shivered.

"Are you cold, Agent?" Lyste asked.

The blond looked at the Lieutenant, unable to comprehend that he was still there, and only nodded, mute.

"It's not just me, then, I know heating the Imperial Dome is expensive but even two degrees more couldn't be that bad, and then we wouldn't have to wear long sleeves all the time. The uniform is certainly snappy, I'll grant you, but... Agent Kallus?"

"Sorry," Kallus said quickly, standing and taking his reports. "Lunch is over and I've much to do."

"But you haven't eaten..."

Kallus ignored the man; well meaning or not Kallus did not want an audience as his body reacted to the death of the _Ghost_ crew. Weakness was a private affair, and his office was as good a place as any. He palmed the door and once he was in he locked it with his code cylinder. Relatively safe he exhaled, a wet sound in his own ears, and moved to his desk to sit down. His eyes glazed over the datapads, but didn't really see them, his mind far away on Lasan. It had taken him two months to be debriefed of the campaign, going over every action, every thought, every detail of his time missing from his troopers. He had told his superiors that he had captured a Lasat, was negotiating with it to tell him where the enemy was massed – he'd said it so often he believed it himself, suppressed the memory to a dark corner of his mind. The nightmares persisted, but Kallus was nothing if not thorough in his mental compartmentalization. It was a military campaign. Nothing more. It was nothing personal.

It was a dark mark on his record, a time he was not proud of, but he had rationalized and theorized and manipulated everything, even his own memories, to make it make sense. It was nothing _personal_.

And now Zeb was gone.

And nothing made sense any more.

He turned on the Bridger transmission, setting the loop, trying to get his mind back to work. Trying to get back to the Empire. Trying to rationalize the loss of the _Ghost_.

* * *

That night he had nearly forgotten his erratic behavior at lunch, convinced himself that old memories were seductive mistresses and that he had conquered the demand of their time. He finally managed to read reports – that had taken several hours, and he would pay for it that night as he tried to catch up. He took the 'pads with him.

The moon rock shone on the empty shelf in his room, bringing it all back to the forefront, and he grunted and threw his blanket over the cursed thing. Out of sight out of mind. He turned his back to the distraction and pulled out the most recent 'pad, intelligence report on communications and theories on encryption algorithms. He cross referenced it with known Rebel communications out of habit than any thought, letting the program run while he looked through another report, this one charting the drop of rebel activity in the sector with Vader's report of the death of the Jedi leadership.

Zeb...

Was it really true? How could he know? How could he find out unless the Lasat made an appearance somewhere? And if he never did?

Kallus' stomach turned, and he knew that the uncertainty would drive him insane, because he could picture a very detailed, very ugly way for the Lasat to die and that would only feed him more nightmares. He had to know. He _had_ to know if Garazeb Orrelious had survived. If Ezra Bridger had survived, but mostly he needed to know about Zeb, to erase that one image in his past with an honorable Lasat who had shown him kindness when it was not only unnecessary but also antithetical to their respective positions.

The communications 'pad blipped, Kallus picked it up and found three different frequencies that weren't yet monitored for abnormalities.

He stared at the datapad, looking at the three frequencies. Protocol dictated that the frequencies be turned over to the Communications Division of the ISB, to add to their already sizeable list of monitored frequencies. Kallus had started there when he entered the ISB, almost a year of picking through data logs and encryptions, sending his own encryptions to ensnare possible defectors and submit them to the education centers. He knew what he had to do.

But he didn't do it.

Kallus stared at those frequencies well into the night, knowing what he had to do and somehow… unable. Three frequencies suspected to be Rebel communication bands, three frequencies that were as yet un-monitored. Three… possibilities.

He wasn't sure where the idea came from. No, that was a mis-statement. He knew where the idea came from: his dislike at the knowledge that he may never know if Zeb survived Vader's assault and unwilling to submit himself to several months of nightmares as his mind helpfully filled in the gaps in the most lurid way possible. But the actual thought, the actual thing he planned to do, he didn't know where it came from. All he really knew was that he was leaving his quarters, exiting the dome and taking a speeder, driving through the capital and then out into the grassy fields, a map of the area listing all the old communication towers. He found the one closest to the city, climbed the tower to the actual station.

Under the light of Lothal's moons Kallus could tell a squatter used to live here. There were old ration packs and bedding, a collection of stormtrooper helmets lining one of the shelves. Signs dictated that no one had been here in some time, however, and he ran his fingers through the old equipment. He could only do this once, the star destroyers would see the transmission and wonder what it was. Kallus would have to be careful, make it look like some kind of natural phenomenon: solar burst or radiation cloud, something that could be ignored.

There. An old shortwave transmitter for local communications. That would do nicely, give just enough static that it could be a stray home station. Kallus dusted it off and pulled it apart, checking the wiring and digging up a rusty tool box. He left the door to the tower open, not daring to use any light other than the natural light of the twin moons. It took perhaps an hour of tinkering to get it to do what it needed, and he hooked it up to the tower. He almost turned it on when he realized what he was about to do.

Could he do this? Was he really so crazy? This was bald, inexcusable treason, there was no going back from this. Could he really do it?

Togetherness.

That was what Zeb had given him on Geonosis moon.

What the _Ghost_ crew had welcomed the Lasat with when they saved him from that ice planetoid.

What Ezra Bridger offered with his transmission.

" _It won't be easy, there'll be... loss and sacrifice... but we can't back down just because we're afraid. That's when we need to stand the tallest. That's what my parents taught me. That's what my new family helped me to remember. Stand up together. As one._ "

Kallus turned on the frequency.

* * *

" _This is Joreth Sward. Is someone using this frequency?_ "

Kallus had been dozing, he startled awake and realized the sky was becoming lighter. The sun would be rising soon.

" _This is Joreth Sward. Is someone using this frequency?_ "

Kallus jolted, realizing what was happening and fumbling to turn on the communicator. "Yes," he said, rubbing sleep sand out of his eyes. "Yes, I am using this frequency."

" _I don't know your voice. What's your clearance code?_ "

Kallus stared at the old, weathered transmitter, shocked at what he was hearing. One half of his brain was flooding with adrenaline and waking him up. After years and years of searching for Rebels he found one in the span of a few hours. The Empire would be pleased of this success and… and the other half of his brain scrambling to come up with a clearance code, would it be alphanumeric or a phrase or sentence? How could he worm his way to the information he wanted, how much could he glean from just a voice?

And, somewhere else, in a tiny corner of Kallus' mind, he thought of Zeb, the Lasat's forthrightness, the honor of being given a bo-rifle that he did not even know was an honor before Zeb had explained it on the Geonosis moon. His Security Bureau brain finally shut down, and weight of what he was doing settled on his shoulders. This was where he had to stand the tallest.

"I don't have a clearance code," he said, "But I do have an identification number to prove my authenticity. You won't find it on civilian records or on standard Imperial lists, but if you have any competence you should recognize the first three letters and what they stand for. That will make you afraid, but it _will_ show you that I am serious about communicating with you."

" _That is very mysterious_ ," the voice on the other end of the transmission said. Very light accent, not a Core accent, or an Outer Rim one.

"People in our game must be mysterious in order to survive," Kallus said. "I will transmit again in two standard rotations. I hope that is enough time for you to corroborate who I am."

" _Ah, but you are mistaken_ ," the voice said. " _You are giving me the identification of one man, who is to say that you are that man?_ "

"Because, if he is still alive, I am the man that Garazeb Orrelios saved," Kallus said.

The transmission cut without even a by your leave, and Kallus, now bereft of the conversation, took time to notice that he was shaking. He had done it… he had really _done_ it… betrayed the Empire, given his identity to the Rebellion, all in the hope of… of what? What did he really expect to gain from this?

… What was he thinking?

* * *

He had two days to spin himself into madness. Everything hinged on the Rebellion believing he was who he said he was, and it was _all he could think about_. It was a miracle he was able to do his duties, to read reports and sit in on meetings, listen to Pryce and oversee the reports on the factories.

He was not so crazy to not plan, however. He told Lyste of seeing a civilian boy in the dome that caught his eye, that he was going to see where the boy lived and pay him a visit. Lyste nodded eagerly, happy to share stories of his own conquests that were outside Imperial entanglements. Konstantine had even joined in, regaling them with the sheer number of women he had explored. Lyste lapped it up like the brown-noser he was, but Kallus made a point of saying his affairs were very small in number. That was true, technically, but between Lyste and Konstantine conversation had been thoroughly diverted, and if someone reported his absences at night, two people of the right security clearance would "know" where he was.

Kallus double and triple checked his trails, taking his three frequencies and shifting their bands by one or two degrees, making them useless to the Empire and deliberately reading, replying and editing all the reports he had ignored. The catching up kept him busy, of course, but it also left him with free time when the two rotations were complete so that he could sneak out to the communications tower. He deliberately walked by Lyste, who smiled and wished him well as he exited the dome.

He did not breathe easy until he was at the tower, and when he was he set up the transmission and began the wait.

" _Joreth Sward here,_ " the transmission said almost immediately.

"I'm here," Kallus answered.

" _We've confirmed your identity, but we should be using aliases and create a clearance code._ "

"The line is secure, I changed the frequencies in my report to my superiors. But you are correct; the frequencies may come up again. As for a clearance code… By the light of Lothal's moons."

" _Very well. For now, we will call you… Fulcrum._ "

"As you wish," Kallus said. The name was familiar, he would have to look it up later. Perhaps it was a metaphor, holding some kind of meeting. "Do I assume Joreth Sward is an alias as well?"

" _You're the ISB Agent. You figure it out._ "

That was fair, Kallus supposed. The accent was thicker there, perhaps a hint of emotion, likely incredulity. Mid-Rim, perhaps, something to work out later. The ISB part of his mind would never quiet, it seemed.

"As you wish, Master Sward," Kallus replied. "If you have confirmed my identity then can you trust what I say?"

" _Orrelios had some stories about you,_ " Sward said. " _He wanted to know why I was asking._ "

"Then he is alive," Kallus muttered. "Vader's report was inaccurate about the events on Malachor."

There was a long, drawn out pause, then, " _They released a report about Malachor?_ "

"Vader did. It was brief to the point of self-redaction. Only that the Jedi leadership - which I assume to be Kanan Jarrus - was disposed of as were the Rebels with him. I spent several years chasing the Lothal Rebels, I worried that Zeb had been one of them."

There was no response, which in and of itself was a kind of response. Sward was absorbing the information and deciding how to respond; either something had surprised him or he needed to word his next sentence very carefully.

" _Parts of it are true,_ " the transmission said.

Kallus nodded. "Master Jarrus was a formidable opponent. It was an honor chasing him, and I'm sorry for your loss."

" _Are you really?_ " Sward asked. " _Given what you did to him on Mustafar?_ "

Distrust, accusation, subtle delivery. To a lesser man that would be a statement given out of anger, the bitter vengeance of a Rebel wronged, but Kallus heard the more subtle tract: another way to confirm his identity by detailing what had happened during the Jedi's capture. Even after handing over his ID number, the accented man on the other end did not trust him outright, and had very carefully maneuvered the conversation to a test. The pauses over Malachor, the hedged words, the bitter tone, the deliberate mistake of a detail, all spoke of a man who knew what he was doing.

"You are very good," Kallus said in approval. "I can confirm I was there for the first thirty-six hours of Kanan Jarrus' interrogation. It was my first experience with a torture table, but not my first with a mind probe, both of which were fruitless in garnering information. After thirty-six hours Jarrus was reassigned to the Grand Inquisitor, who ordered the interrogation be moved to Mustafar. Based on Lothal as I am, it was not deemed necessary that I accompany Moff Tarkin and the Grand Inquisitor."

" _Very well. What do you have for us, assuming you aren't setting a trap?_ "

Kallus had spent two days deliberating on that. He had access to a large girth of information, but he could not hand out intelligence that only he would know. At the same time he could not hand out something small, that any Rebel cell with a hint of intelligence could learn about. Similarly, he was not yet convinced that this Joreth Sward was part of the main thrust of the Rebellion: it would have to be big enough that the Rebels would need a decent force to attack, yet small enough that the Empire wouldn't miss it.

"There is a shipping depot, at the edge of the Lothal sector, hidden in the Ublek Asteroid Field. Mostly it's used for commercial relay, but follow the finances of the Hyperspace Transport Conglomerate and see if you can find what I'm offering."

" _You, are testing, me?_ " Sward asked.

"We're both intelligence people," Kallus said. "Trust, such as it is, has to go both ways. I will do what I need to garner yours, but I am not so foolish to hand myself over to space knows who without knowing they are part of the larger organization I wish to contact. Name dropping Zeb is not enough."

" _... It would appear you have a brain in your head,_ " Sward said.

"I'll transmit again in a standard week. Hopefully that will be enough time to get reports of your results."

* * *

If two days was a drive to madness, a week was a drive to delusional paranoia. Kallus kept a pad on the Ublek transport station permanently attached to his desk waiting for word of a Rebel strike; his muscles were tense and the gym did nothing to quell the anxiety. He did not talk to anyone, and only Lyste seemed to notice the change, asking if the "boy" he had discovered would drive him to distraction. Kallus offered a flat stare, using the look to transmit whatever Lyste wanted to see.

If chasing Rebels was a challenge that gave him job satisfaction, working for them would be an adrenal rush that would eventually kill him. _That_ thought kept him up for hours at night, wondering if he was doing the right thing, worried that this would all be for nought, wondering when (and it wouldn't be an if, it would be a _when_ ) he would be discovered. He created contingency plans, made a go-bag and kept it at the tower, quietly put affairs in order in case he ever disappeared, planned for the worst even as he hoped for the best. He was not insecure with his abilities, he could ride this fit of insanity for a while, and if nothing else this was an _excellent_ way to keep him alert.

He looked up the name Fulcrum – it was a title, not a name, suspected to be the head of the Rebellion. That gave Kallus pause: he had always understood the leadership to be Jedi, but Kanan Jarrus was not known by the name Fulcrum. A different Jedi? More than one survived? … Could Jarrus be alive? And Fulcrum now dead?

The week ended and he rode to the tower, opened up the transmission and gave his code. "By the light of Lothal's moons, I am here."

" _Your intel was good._ "

"And yet nothing has been done."

" _It hasn't, but that doesn't mean that it won't. Well done, Fulcrum._ "

Kallus took a deep breath. "Do I have the privilege of learning why I have been given so lauded a title?"

And, at last, genuine emotion: a laugh. " _The name is not so exalted as you think. I am Fulcrum as well._ "

"... I see." Kallus ruthlessly muted the ISB Agent in his head.

" _Let me give you some advice,_ " Sward said, " _From one Fulcrum to another: do whatever it takes to stay alive and don't think too hard about what that actually means. If you ever stop to think you'll never make a decision when you need to, and if you ever stop you will drown in how far you had to go._ "

…

"... That is a feeling I am already intimately familiar with," Kallus answered, old, dirty memories floating up in his mind. The smell, the sound, the sight. He gripped his bo-rifle close. Emotion bled into his voice, and he hated himself for the tell, knew he would never have been this careless at the Imperial Dome.

" _Then I'm sorry, Fulcrum,_ " the voice on the other side of the galaxy said, genuine sincerity in his voice. " _You're not the first, and you won't be the last._ "

* * *

A month later Kallus received a report on a Rebel attack on the Ublek station, and he held in a smile as he read through the details. It was exactly as he had hoped. He read his reports with two eyes now: one as an ISB agent and one as an undercover insurgent – he dared not even think the word Rebel. Word reached him that the _Ghost_ crew was still in action; he found surveillance tapes of Ezra Bridger, now with his hair cut short. The Mandalore girl was rarely seen but her artistic work popped up on several jobs, the holos usually out of focus because the investigators didn't know their significance. That meant not everyone read Kallus' reports, and the professional in him chaffed but he made no move to correct them until at least two weeks after the fact. Zeb's distinct silhouette popped up and Kallus gave an audible sigh of relief before he covered it up with a hum and a frown. Syndulla was of course alive, no one could pilot the _Ghost_ like her.

No sign of Jarrus, though. Perhaps he was dead.

The last of the factories were completed, and Kallus noticed there were wings that he did not receive reports on. What? His clearance level was comfortably high, and he was tangentially part of Moff Tarkin's inner circle, why did he not know every detail of the factory? He brought the concern to Governor Pryce, but the woman looked down her nose at him, saying he didn't _need_ to know.

Then a report came across his desk about the Battle of Batonn, and he grimaced as he read the report. The work was masterful, of course, to be expected of Admiral Thrawn, but the casualties were reprehensible. Tarkin brought the name up in a meeting, a ringing endorsement, and Kallus dreaded ever having a meeting with the Chiss officer even as the ISB agent in his mind salivated at the machinations of such a man and the insurgent in him quaked at the idea of being caught by such a strategist. Pryce was easier to work with, more focused on her career and her ambition than the details. Many in the Empire were like that, and Kallus took advantage of it.

He finally came across a piece of information he could use – a plan to colonize an already inhabited planet in the Lothal sector. He checked the report, saw that it was forwarded to several ISB agents and the governor's office. Good, many people were privy to the information. He took a speeder to the communication tower and booted up his old transmitter.

" _Clearance code._ "

"By the light of Lothal's moons."

" _What do you need, Fulcrum?_ "

"A planet in the Lothal Sector, Loranth VIII, is to be colonized by the Empire for it's deposits of minerals used in making duracrete. There is already a settlement there, small and without hope of holding off an Imperial Dome. I would recommend an evacuation. The Empire lands in a week."

" _Good. I'll let people know. If this works out, I'll give you your own frequency and a trajectory to transmit to. There's a base closer to you that you can use, they'll be able to mobilize faster than me._ "

"You honor me with your trust, Fulcrum," Kallus replied.

" _You've earned it for now. In this business that's as far as it ever goes._ "

"Well, then I hope the day comes where I encourage complete trust in you," Kallus offered.

" _That will never happen_."

"A cynic," Kallus said, a soft smile on his lips. "Then instead I hope the day comes where I can change your mind."

Two months later Thrawn was promoted to Grand Admiral, and he brought the Seventh Fleet to Lothal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, the twins are writing another Rebels fic. This should shock no one. It's not about Kanan - that should shock everyone.
> 
> And yes, while it's true we spent most of our time fangirling over a certain Jedi who was bereft of (Hera) us too soon, that didn't mean we didn't have other interests in the show. Kallus as a villain was a might boring, but watching him turn to a Rebel was absolutely fascinating, and it was a shame there wasn't room for him in Season 4. The thought struck us that he is an intelligence officer... but more on that later.
> 
> The first seventy pages of this fic are meant to build up to the payoff of the last five pages, and in order to do that Kallus needs to meet someone. His name, of course, isn't Joreth Sward, but if anyone is connected to the EU they already know how this is. And since there's a lot to build up we've ended up semi-novelizing the last two seasons of the show in order to fit in all the small scenes necessary.
> 
> The fic itself is something of a character study for Kallus, we learned a whole lot  
> about him writing for this, as well as the people around him.
> 
> Next chapter: Kallus was given a very specific trajectory, and he realizes very quickly just who he's transmitting to. Also, Thrawn.


	2. Chapter 2

When he saw Sabine Wren at Skystrike he realized just what rebels he was transmitting to, and he wondered if Sward, Fulcrum, whatever his name was, was happy with the irony. No one else could be sent to Skystrike Academy because they didn't have anyone else who could fit in so perfectly. Kallus didn't even need to volunteer, Pryce ordered him as part of the investigation. He interviewed the cadets thoroughly, he was still a thought policeman, and his training easily pointed out who the defectors were. He looked over their backgrounds, their connections or lack thereof, saw the commonalities that made them ripe for a Rebellion. His questions were subtle, their answers serviceable. They knew why Kallus was there and tried to hide their intentions. Kallus was no fool, but Pryce was, and she did not notice the small details that pointed out their defection.

Instead he noted that there were no obvious candidates and watched as Sabine Wren was transferred into the academy with nary a hiccup, saw on the surveillance feeds as she hooked up with Cadet Antilles.

And he watched as Pryce had the glimmer of competence and capture Wren and the defectors.

Kallus watched as Wren was outed, and he very carefully did nothing, did not acknowledge that he knew her, did not give her more than a passing glance. _She_ , however, glared at him unhindered by the layers of intelligence going on, spat vitriol at him even as he debated how to let her go without giving himself away. She was a part of Zeb's crew and he would not be even indirectly responsible for her death.

Wren, however, proved to be as capable as ever, beating Governor Pryce and taking the defectors with her. Kallus tracked their positions on the surveillance he had linked to his personal holo. No one on this base knew how a Lothal Rebel escaped, but he _did_ , and they were going to get caught all over again if he didn't intervene. Adrenaline was in his system again, and he pursed his lips and rushed to intercept, closing blast doors, giving them a small window of opportunity.

All three looked around in confusion, but Wren was quick, reacting to the barest perception of movement and leveling her stolen blaster at him. Good girl. Kallus lifted a hand up quickly.

"Don't shoot."

She was defiant, taking better aim. "Give me a good reason not to," she challenged.

… He wouldn't trust himself either, if the situations were reversed. He still didn't trust Fulcrum completely, but he trusted this moment, this decision. "Avoid levels three through five," he said simply, articulating himself clearly so all three could understand him as he pressed the release on one of the blast doors. "Hangar Twenty-Four if your best possibility."

The cadets were happy for the news, running almost immediately, but Wren was still the smartest of the group, had never lowered her blaster, was still glaring daggers at him.

"Wait," she called to her compatriots. "Why should we trust you?"

Oh, there were so many ways to answer that question. But she didn't know everything, even Zeb didn't know everything, and he couldn't out himself as Fulcrum. So he said:

"Tell Garazeb Orrelios: We're even." Her eyes widened. He stepped aside. "Go."

Wren escaped, and he hoped that was the only time he physically met the Lothal Rebels. He got away with it because Thrawn was elsewhere, but he could not afford to ignore identifying them more than that.

He waited three days after returning to Lothal before driving up and transmitting to Fulcrum.

" _Sward here. Why are you transmitting? You have coordinates to your closest branch._ "

"I understand," Kallus told the accented voice. He'd identified the sector but not yet the planet. "I wanted to report the success of the mission."

" _Your branch will make that report._ "

"Forgive me for being thorough," Kallus said, slightly irritated. "But there is another concern. The factories on Lothal are complete, and there is a section that I do not have clearance to get reports on. There are several possibilities as to why, and none of them are good."

" _I understand. I'll pass it on. Fulcrum out._ "

"Fulcrum out," Kallus signed off.

* * *

With the factories complete, work began immediately, and once work began - secret section or not - Kallus could get Lyste to share the delivery manifestos and supply requirements. It took the better part of two months to have enough data - while doing so he found out about the dissident presence on Mykapo, and given Commander Sato's origins he forwarded the intel immediately - but from there he could reverse engineer what materials were "over-supplied" and take an educated guess one what was being worked on. The list of materials was diverse, and had several overlaps, but when Kallus cross referenced the surplus with known Imperial war machines the closest he came to were TIE fighters. Only there were several other quantities that didn't immediately add up. That was concerning, but by this point he had enough evidence to make a transmission, and let the Lothal Rebels know that someone needed to return to Lothal.

Other reports, of course, had crossed his desk: the high volume of malfunctions on speeders and other equipment for one, and when he traced the vehicle numbers he saw that they were all locally made. Pryce might ignore that detail, but Thrawn would not, and he prayed the Chiss Grand Admiral would not notice it for just a little bit longer, even forty-eight hours, enough time for whoever Sato and Syndulla sent to sneak in and sneak out.

But Thrawn did notice, in fact paid particular attention to everything to do with the factory, and decided that an inspection would be necessary.

"Agent Kallus, make sure that the workers are all present and accounted for."

"Yes, Governor Pryce," Kallus said calmly. He walked through the rows, mentally counting and comparing to the personnel reports he had on the factory. The numbers were accurate, either no one had come yet or someone had taken someone else's place. Smart to leave the safety visors on, too, if it was a known Rebel face. "Look sharp," he said, eyeing no one in particular. "This factory is being honored by a surprise visit from Imperial High Command."

And in breezed the Grand Admiral: slow, confident walk, arms behind his back, perfect posture; the epitome of Imperial perfection. "Thank you, Agent Kallus," the Chiss said in suave politeness. He looked to the workers. "My visit is not an honor, however, but an investigation. Vehicles in this factory malfunction at a rate far higher than that of others. I believe poor craftsmanship is to blame; and it has cost your empire troops and missions. This will not be tolerated."

Kallus' attention was split between watching Thrawn and watching the workers. The Grand Admiral had not said what his plan was, only that he would do an inspection and the fewer details known the more impact it would have. Thrawn singled out one of the workers. Fifty-four-seventy-three. Kallus would have to look up the name later. He watched as one of the speeder bikes that had been put on display was pointed to, Thrawn asking for a demonstration. Kallus could predict the rest of the show – he had done similar fare before transferring to Lothal: make the worker responsible for the sabotage demonstrate the sabotage, punish accordingly and have workers self-test their products.

But that was not what happened.

Thrawn would not let 54-73 shut down, took his control 'pad and took the demonstration to its inevitable conclusion: the speeder exploded, taking 54-73 with it.

Casual murder. To make a point.

"Now that I have your attention know this:" Thrawn said, voice only slightly louder to get the attention of the other workers. "Whatever you build here you will test personally." The Grand Admiral reached up to flick away a piece of ash. "I expect your malfunction rates will drop substantially."

Several workers were ready to fight, others bereft at the rage of the injustice. Kallus ruthlessly compartmentalized, forbade himself of thinking of Lasan and the slow deaths of the Lasat, reminded himself that he was here for a reason and that he _could not speak up_.

"See to it that no one leaves or enters the facility," Thrawn told Pryce and Lyste, moving away from the carnage, "I wish to inspect the line for sabotage."

That was his cue, and Kallus quickly moved to follow the Grand Admiral. He dared not look behind him to see what the workers were doing, he could not afford them his attention. If Thrawn was so set on this facility that meant that whatever was being built here was a personal project and it was _imperative_ that he learn what it was as soon as possible.

They moved to the next hangar, and Pryce offered what she always offered: bravado.

"Grand Admiral, you don't think that the Rebels have infiltrated Section A-2 as well, do you? The secrecy of that project is-"

"Is imperative," Thrawn countered, still marching ahead. "Which is why I've ordered anyone attempting to enter the area without my personal codes to be terminated on sight."

Damn. _Damn_ that would make Rebel work here forfeit if they could not get into that wing of the facility. Kallus' brain entered overdrive, trying to work out a way to get even the slightest sliver of information to help the Rebels when they arrived. "I can question the workers," he offered, "but I won't know if they're lying without more information about this new project." He added a bit of edge to his voice, a subtle dig to Pryce that Thrawn wouldn't miss and likely draw conclusions contrary to Kallus' true motives.

Pryce fell for the dig of course, cold blue eyes snapping to the ISB agent. "All you need to know," she said contemptuously, "is that the Admiral has a new fighter initiative here."

Interesting.

"A new fighter?" Kallus repeated. "Difficult to see how one small ship will change much."

Pryce didn't answer; rather, Thrawn did. The Grand Admiral had taken offense to the derision and Kallus bit the inside of his cheek, realizing he had just put himself on the Chiss' radar.

"Victory and defeat are determined by the smallest detail," Thrawn said smoothly, congenial and oily. Kallus chaffed: that had been his exact wording on several reports when he had been trying to get Minister Tua to pay attention to the information he was giving her to find the Rebels, and having Thrawn so casually toss it in his face was a low blow. The Chiss looked up to one of the walkers, and those red eyes missed nothing, narrowing at something and adding: "For example, take this walker."

Kallus looked up at it, but he did not come from an engineering background, did not know what he was looking for.

"Is this your work?" Thrawn asked to a worker.

"Yes, sir." Kallus looked to the worker, suddenly having a dread premonition. "I oversaw the walker's construction."

And unlike in the speeder warehouse Kallus was not a witness, but a participant, taking Thrawn's command 'pad and inputting the code to make the walker step forward, indirectly displaying its sabotage and signing off on the worker's certain doom. With Lyste locking down the workers, Kallus was left to dig up personnel records (Sumar, the worker's name was Morad Sumar; farmer, political allies of the Bridgers before their capture) for review. The two liaised and went to Thrawn's factory office.

The inside was littered with holo depictions of art. Kallus saw portraits of the Syndulla family from Ryloth, Bridger's holo-id from when he infiltrated cadet training, ancient paintings native to the planet, and the graffiti the Mandalore girl was so known for. Thrawn was studying them with the intensity he granted anything that had his attention, and Kallus knew he would have to show more competence that he was comfortable showing in front of the Grand Admiral.

"Lieutenant, what can you tell me about this?" He gestured to the graffiti.

"Uh, it looks... like a section of the retaining wall, sir."

Oh, Lyste, you will never amount to anything.

"Agent Kallus?"

"It is the mark of the Phoenix Squadron," Kallus replied. He had done his research when he first landed on Lothal. "A creature of light, rising in flames: a symbol of their commitment to victory."

Lyste openly gaped at him before making a fist, internally growling at his obvious failure.

The admiral's reaction was quite different: A slight smirk. "It is that," Thrawn agreed, "and more. I've seen it everywhere, marking territory. It is a commitment, but to this world specifically. These rebels have an attachment to this place and will always return." Damn again, Thrawn understood how important Lothal was to the Rebels, maybe not yet to Bridger specifically, but he _knew_ , and that would not lead to success. "So, have you found more subversives?"

"Actually," Lyste said, and Kallus very nearly closed his eyes to the bad news. "Sir, we've lost some. Two workers went missing after your speech... we found their uniforms."

Then the Rebels were already here. He would have to make this quick... Kallus stepped in. "I am confident we will locate them once we issue and alert." And let the Rebels know they had been found out.

"No I think not," Thrawn said with a casual dismissive gesture. "The defectors will have new disguises by now; they'll hide as technicians or troops to gather data and escape."

"So," Kallus drew out, "You think the rebels are more than just saboteurs?"

"Indeed I do, Agent Kallus. These rebels are after information, likely heading to Section A-2. Secure it."

… He had to get the Rebels out of here before they got themselves killed.

Kallus happily followed his orders, gathering as much data as he could about stormtrooper movements and scanning heat signatures of troop placement. He found two that were standing in a hall, not guarding anything. The Rebels. Kallus moved to intercept, mind racing three steps ahead to make this look good. He boarded a lift to take him to the right level. If they were in disguise he could simply escort them to the perimeter as part of the sweep and have them conveniently over take him. Failing that he could allow their capture and break them out later – that was riskier though. Maybe he could contact Fulcrum and engineer the breakout that way. He could also-

The door opened and there were the two Rebels, a stormtrooper and scout, and a droid.

"You two," he ordered, "come with me to secure the perimeter."

The pair barely exchanged a glance before entering, the droid following. A stormtrooper called out to wait but the lift door closed. Damn _again_ , they would attack him now unless he outed himself. What was the point of being an insurgent if someone knew who you were? Only Fulcrum knew his identification, and Rebel Command, and that was all he wanted. He took a deep breath. "Don't move, Rebels," he said in a low voice.

Much later, on reflection, he would realize that was perhaps not the right thing to say. The taller one threw a sharp punch, the smaller following up, and Kallus threw a fist of his own and there was grappling and gripping before he was able to suck in a breath and talk.

"Listen to me:" he said quickly. "I am Fulcrum."

"Ha! Yeah, right." Bridger? Ezra Bridger?

"You want us to believe that?" the tall one said.

Kallus worked his jaw. He would have to delete the footage of this lift. Entire sections of recordings would have to be doctored before he submitted his reports for this. "By the Light of Lothal's moons."

He had promised himself he would never utter that phrase on an imperial base, and Bridger and his partner had forced him to compromise that promise. His chest ached, and not from the struggle, and he watched the surprise flow over the two as they took off their helme—Kanan Jarrus was alive? How did he surv—what happened to his fac—what happened to his ey— _what happened to his sight_? Kallus did a double take, and that was all he had time to process before Bridger expressed incredulity. The pressure of the moment forced Kallus to ignore the revelation – they had to move quickly and there wasn't time to explain or talk or do anything other than survive the next few hours. "Your friend Zeb trusted me on the ice moon, I saved Sabine Wren at the fighter academy, and now I'm trying to save _you_. But you have to trust me."

The C-1 droid affirmed the thought in binary. Kallus would take what he could get. "Your _droid_ trusts me."

"Yeah, that's not a good thing," Bridger said in a flat voice.

"... Fine, you want to help us so badly, we need to get a signal to our friends," Jarrus said, face bent down slightly, milky eyes staring at nothing. What was he even doing here? How could he even walk straight? Kallus shook the thought off.

"Then we'll have to move quickly," he answered instead, palming the lift and changing the departure floor. He opened up the console and searched for the security wiring while he was there, pulling the lift's camera and deleting everything after the initial scuffle; let Thrawn think he was still fighting in the lift. "Chase me when we get off," he said, "I'll lead you where you need to go. I assume you can knock out a few technicians?"

Jarrus had already put his helmet on – a relief to not look upon the scars, and Bridger gave a dark, predatory grin as he lowered his scout helmet.

The fight, if that's what it could be called, was efficiently brutal, one of the Jedi shoved a trooper into Kallus and against one of the console tables while the other used a captured stunner to subdue the room. Kallus was decidedly _not_ used to being on the losing end of a fist fight and was indignant – Bridger was flippant to his attitude but Jarrus was all business, checking the troopers to be sure they were unconscious. Good man.

"Your droid can open your comm links from this port," Kallus said. "I'll provide the access codes-" But the droid gave a dismissive warble, the binary just as flippant. "He doesn't... need them?" Kallus was surprised, learned something knew about the Lothal Rebels that he should have known earlier. "This C-1 of yours is quite efficient."

The droid puffed up in pride, and Bridger rolled his eyes.

"Figures Chop would get along with an Imperial spy."

If the derision was supposed to be a dig, Kallus ignored it, his eyes were on Jarrus now, contacting someone on the outside and quickly forming a means of escape. The ISB agent suggested the east vehicle pool, and he finally allowed himself to breathe now that the Rebels had a means out of the factory. While they were escaping he could dig through the surveillance footage and do the scrubbing he needed, most of which could be done here... "Now I just have to make this look convincing," he muttered to himself.

"Okay," Bridger said helpfully, and suddenly Kallus was _flying through the glass display_ and into another console table.

He was stunned for several minutes, stumbling to get his bearings and swearing he was going to _kill Bridger for that damned transmission_ that had made all of this happen. When he properly came to he saw the two technicians trying to get up as well. Kallus ran a bloody hand through his hair, shaking out the worst of the glass and hoping he didn't need stitches as he crawled to a terminal and began calling up security monitors.

"What are you doing?" one of the troopers asked.

Kallus rolled his eyes for show. "I'm learning where the Rebels went," he snapped, hunched over his terminal so they wouldn't see what he was really doing. "It looks like they went to the east side of the facility, maybe you should start heading there!" Once they were gone he downloaded the last hour of footage per protocol and erased the original files to prevent tampering from outside sources. On his 'pad, he opened up the files and scrubbed the sections he needed – bald luck had given stray shots to the general cameras locations and Kallus had planted enough evidence in his life as an ISB agent to know how to filter video and make it look natural. Once his work was complete he started writing his report; Lyste arrived at one point and was stunned to see the injuries Kallus had suffered and helped him to one of the factory bays that was being used as triage for the stormtroopers. Kallus saw none of the worker's bodies present, and he knew he would have to look that up before his next transmission. Bridger would want to know what happened to his family friend Morad Sumar.

No stitches, but several bandages and bacta patches for his back and his neck, as well as pain relievers that he quickly disposed of. In a fresh uniform and hair once again slicked back, he and Lyste reported to the governor and the grand admiral. Kallus first: starting with Thrawn's orders to secure the perimeter to finding troopers to being assailed by the troopers in the elevator, escaping to the communications center to get word out where the Rebels were, and being knocked through the glass display. Lyste followed up with handling the id code verification, seeing the report of the stolen walker, and sending two AT-ATs to retrieve the Rebels before a speeder with a rocket launcher of some kind arrived to save the walker and facilitate the daring escape.

Thrawn absorbed the report as he did everything else: intense red eyes, closed off face, and finally a thoughtful hum.

"That will be all, lieutenant," Thrawn said, "dismissed."

Lyste looked relieved, and Kallus quietly wished his life were that simple. "Agent Kallus," Thrawn said, "I read your report; several troopers confirmed your encounter with the Jedi, it was very helpful." Out of context, the sentences was simple, even complimentary, but Kallus by now knew Thrawn well enough to hear a demurring "but..." in there, and he realized that scrubbing the surveillance footage after just coming to might have made him make a mistake. "Do you know," Thrawn said casually, "after analyzing the Rebel's escape it's clear to me they had help from one within our Imperial ranks."

Pryce, bored up to that point, immediately snapped to attention. "The Rebels have a mole? Then all personnel must be interrogated! This spy must be found!"

"Patience, Governor," the Grand Admiral said, "Acting out of emotion will not serve us here; we must wait, and watch. And when we find our Rebel spy – and we will find them – we shall turn them from an obstacle to an asset. Wouldn't you agree, Agent Kallus?"

Kallus could only answer one way: "Your strategy is without flaw, Grand Admiral. As always."

Once they were back at the capitol city Kallus looked up more on Sumar and his family, gathering the information and then triple checking that his access couldn't be traced. He cleared all his reports and scrubbed every datapad he had ever touched, then pulled out their cards and switched them with other 'pads just to be safe. He waited a standard week before he felt safe enough to drive to the communication tower. He didn't transmit to the Lothal base but rather to Fulcrum's channel, Joreth Sward, if that was his real name. The other Fulcrum picked up right away.

" _Clearance code._ "

"By the light of Lothal's moons."

" _Why are you contacting me? You already have a branch connection._ "

"I do, but a concern has come up that I don't want them to know," Kallus said, rubbing one of the long healed cuts on the back of his neck. "Thrawn has surmised that there is a mole in the ranks. It will take me much longer to verify my information, and even then some of it might still be forfeit."

A long pause. Then,

" _Do you need an extraction?_ "

Kallus stared at the transceiver, stunned that someone had even _asked_ that. Treason was always a game against time; Kallus had lived on the other side of it over and over, tracking, trailing, waiting only for the traitor to make a mistake, for the insurgent to miss some small detail. Now an insurgent himself, he knew it was not a question of if, but when he was caught. Thrawn would have always found out, and with him on the trail the only thing that changed was how fast the proverbial clock was ticking down. But... Evac? _Evac_? Save his own skin when he hadn't been discovered yet? When he could still help Zeb and the others? When he could still do more to erase the terrible things he had done? "No," he spat. "I've some time left, and I want to put it to good use."

" _Fulcrum,_ " the accented voice said. Fest, that was the accent of people from Fest. " _You forgot what I told you. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and don't think too hard about what that actually means. This is the only time I will repeat myself: do you need an evac?_ "

… Do whatever it takes to stay alive. Kallus had done that, a lifetime ago, had done whatever it took to achieve his goals, had stepped over people because that was the way of the Empire, and therefore that was the way of life. He as only just now seeing the costs of that way, and Morad Sumar was a victim of that line of thinking. He would not continue down that path. He would not let bad things happen if he was in any kind of position to fix it. He could not be ignorant after Zeb had opened his eyes.

"No," he said simply. "I don't need an evac."

A pregnant pause draw out, the Fulcrum on the other end obviously mulling that over. " _As you wish,_ " he said finally. " _It'll be on your head._ "

"Also, I have some information one of the Lothal Rebels, Ezra Bridger, might want to know. Be sure to pass it on to him."

" _As you wish,_ " Fulcrum repeated.

* * *

Kallus alternated from being planet-side to on a star-destroyer, bouncing from overseeing security of the factories building the new class of TIE fighter (the rebels passed on their stolen intelligence to everyone) he was guarding to offering insight and analysis of rebel activity throughout the sector. The factory work was easy after Thrawn's demonstration of power, and rebel activity throughout the sector focused mainly on trying to determine the location of their base. Garrel had been easy to identify – even without that Inquisitor witch it was obvious they were working out of some kind of space port in order to resupply so quickly. It wasn't that Thrawn was better than Kallus – everything the Chiss Grand Admiral did was straight forward and by the book – the thing that set Thrawn apart was the speed at which he drew conclusion and conjecture.

Send out probe droids?

No, instead send infiltrators, something innocuous and easy to pick up by a band desperate for any kind of supply they could get – even droids. Kallus very nearly couldn't find an excuse to go planet-side in order to send off the warning, and then it was back to the star destroyer waiting for all the droids to report back, watching their negative findings with equal parts relief and anxiety that the next would would instead report something dire. Kallus could not tamper with these droids, all data was uploaded immediately to the Chiss' chambers.

And then one of the droids came back, and exploded.

Whatever Kallus had expected when he warned the Lothal Rebels, it hadn't been _that_. Even ignoring the sheer destruction that had been wrought, the message sent was clear: try all you want, we still won't bend. We take your tactics and turn them against you. Kallus felt his heart lift at the sight, and had to quickly turn the adrenaline to anger to cover the smile that threatened to spread across his face as he demanded to know what happened.

There was, of course, the report to the Grand Admiral.

"How did this happen, Agent Kallus?" Thrawn asked, for now tone neutral.

"I suspect the Rebels captured a unit in the field and reprogrammed it to self destruct upon its return to base," Kallus said. "Quite... ingenious, really."

Thrawn smiled. "I'm inclined to agree," he said simply.

…? No frustration? No reaction to his of defeat? "You seem... in surprisingly good spirits, considering this loss," Kallus ventured carefully.

"Loss, you say?" Thrawn said softly, just a hint of condescension in his voice. "The Rebels may have protected the location of their base for now, but in doing so they have narrowed my search:" He changed the view of the holotable, before a list of blue planets now shifting to a zoomed in collection of ominously red spheres. "Before today they could have been hiding in any of a thousand a systems but now... now I know they are almost certainly on one of the ninety-four planets surveyed by my infiltrators. The Rebels have won this battle, but the war will be ours."

… A game against time, and Thrawn didn't let any mistake go wasted.

Kallus nodded, and risked asking a question: "Any leads on the Rebel mole?"

"None as yet, but do not worry. I have a plan that will be enacted shortly."

Kallus dreaded what the plan might be, and he wondered in what other ways he could plan to delay (not prevent, there was no hope of that, just delay) his discovery. He rode out to the communication tower, Lothal's moons in different states of waning gibbous, eyeing his transmitter. Pacing back and forth, he considered his options, but really he needed a fresh perspective.

" _Clearance code._ "

"By the light of Lothal's moons."

" _This isn't a good time. What do you need?_ "

Kallus blinked, realized that the Fulcrum on the other side had a life. "Advice, but if you are busy it can wait."

" _... I have a few minutes. What do you need, Fulcrum_?"

Kallus pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully. "The Grand Admiral will soon be beginning his investigation of a mole under his command. How would someone throw off suspicion?"

" _... That depends,_ " the voice on the other side said. " _What kind of plans have you made?_ "

"I have a cover for making these transmissions, a go-bag here, in my office, and in my quarters and four different ways to escape as needs be if I'm given sufficient warning. All information I deliver is accessible by multiple people to dilute the possible suspects, and-"

" _Do you have a patsy?_ "

Kallus frowned, having never heard the word before. "A what?"

" _A patsy, a fall-guy, a person to throw under the speeder._ "

… Oh. "No... I had not thought of that."

" _From one Fulcrum to another you'd better think on it. If you're going to survive you have to know who you're going to sacrifice in advance, but still be prepared to do it to anyone who's convenient._ "

Pryce would be ideal, Konstantine after that, but the idea required thought. "Suggestions on a good candidate?"

" _Someone without imagination, who can be easily manipulated, and is on the same clearance level or above._ "

"Understood. Fulcrum out."

Kallus went back to his quarters and pulled out his 'pad, looking not at reports but personnel records to pick a patsy. He wondered if the phrase was unique to Fest. Pryce and Konstantine were both easily manipulated, to be sure, and of a higher clearance level... Pryce had a hint of imagination though, or else she would not have become governor, nor would she have managed to capture the dissidents at Skystrike Academy. Konstantine would be better but he had no access to the reports on the Lothal factories, making his chances of being a mole improbable. He looked through the rest of the personnel reports – there were several good candidates in the communication and information sections of ISB, but none with the right clearance or section of reports. Lyste was a decent choice, and even looked up to Kallus, besides, and had all the right access, but a little dull to be believed as a mole.

He was up to the wee hours of the morning, looking at and making lists of names, memorizing faces and identification codes, ready to begin a deeper look to choose for a patsy.

He followed Fulcrum's advice, and religiously didn't think too deeply on just what he was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there's a lot of advice from "One Fulcrum to Another," we necessarily need to go through the events of Rebels itself. That's a little boring - we've done novelizations before and we were decidedly not interested in committing that much brain power. However, Kallus has a very limited view of the series - stuck on Lothal as he is - and because of that, we could gloss over quite a bit. His priorities are significantly different from people like Ezra and Kanan, and he has the ability to tune things out if he doesn't need it while his brain is in overdrive. The next chapters are a little lock-step as a result, but we insert small nuance and extra lines here and there without completely breaking the slightly faster pace of this fic compared to the AC novelizations. This chapter alone covers three episodes, but the next chapter is almost entirely its own beast.
> 
> Next chapter: Kallus gets surprised enough to swear. A lot.


	3. Chapter 3

For three weeks, nothing. He continued to research personnel while trying to find ways to sabotage the Lothal factories while having half an eye on Thrawn _and_ keeping up his appearance of being an above average ISB Agent, interrogating insurgents to discover if any were part of the larger Rebellion or combing through information to ascertain the location of the Rebel base _and_ keep it from being discovered. He had always had late nights as a cog in the empire's machine, but now he was getting only two or three hours of sleep a night – he was _exhausted_ and however ruthlessly he held himself together he could feel the stress getting to him, making him short tempered or brusque with subordinates. He was careful to space it out, add the occasional comment to divert suspicion. Lyste actually suggested he spend a night with his lover, and Kallus very nearly killed him at the thought of him having time for a lover before remembering that that was his cover for making his transmissions.

The blaring alarms of an alert jolted him out of a deep sleep. He had been dreaming about his anxieties. A trooper told him to report to battle stations, and when he put on the water to wake himself up he got a good look at himself in the mirror.

He took a deep breath and splashed water on his face. Sickbay. He would have to go to sick bay for some kind of muscle relaxant, force himself to sleep for a night or two.

Lyste, recently promoted to supervise a light cruiser while its captain was on leave, was happy to explain he had captured a stolen shuttle. Kallus followed procedure to lead the boarding party, and a thin whelp of a boy struggled against the stormtroopers. And then the helmet was taken of.

And it was Ezra Bridger.

What in the seven Correllian Hells was this _kriffing spaced out Rebel piece of Bantha poodoo doing here?_

Space! Stars above! _Kriffing poodoo karking sleemo koochoo-_

_He was going to kill that boy!_

Adrenaline pulsed through Kallus' nerves and set his brain on fire, but he managed to _somehow_ contain it and calmly ordered the boy taken to the detention cells. He kept his mind busy by creatively coming up with ways to jettison Bridger out the airlock. His steps were even, light, and his breathing just as measured. He may have worked his jaw as Bridger was tossed into a cell, and had to take an extra breath when he told the guards, "Leave us."

A pause, then,

"I'll interrogate him myself."

He used his code cylinder to turn off surveillance – standard procedure for an interrogation of brutal means – and locked the door behind him. Only then could he release his reaction. A little.

" _Do you realize how dangerous it is for you to be here_?!" His voice was a strangled, high pitched mess – a testament to how strung out he was and how desperate to release his anxiety that it bled out at all and _he would make Bridger feel every inch of his ire_. "If anyone recognizes you-"

And _stars above_ the boy was blazé. "They won't," he said with the self-assured arrogance of a teenager. "You know how big the Empire is, most troopers don't even know what I look like now."

… did he even realize the position he had put Kallus in? Did he even _care?_ "I hope that's true for both our sakes!" the ISB agent hissed. "If they discover you here I'll be executed for _treason_!" There was still so much work to do, he hadn't found a weakness of the factories nor settled on a patsy nor discovered Thrawn's latest work on finding the Rebel base. Bridger coming in and just expecting Kallus not to identify him on the spot put him in the unfathomable position of trying to break the boy out _while still doing all of that_. The brat was going to get him killed! Sooner than he was planning!

"You might be anyway!" Bridger retorted. "We think the Empire monitored your last Fulcrum transmission."

Last transmission? From the communication tower? _How_? Not only how did they know to monitor the tower but how did they know the broadcast frequency, how did they break the encryption, _how did he not notice it_?

And that _still_ didn't explain why Bridger—wait...

"... So you," Kallus drew out, "Got captured... _to warn me?_ "

"Nope," Bridger said glibly. "To get you out of here."

…

… The Rebels were... Zeb and the crew of the _Ghost_ were taking such a risk... to save him?

For a split second Kallus was filled with a sensation so strong his entire face flushed and his blind anger abated. His chest filled with something he didn't know how to name and he couldn't fathom the Empire making such a risk if the situations were reversed.

Then he thought about all the work he still had to do. Fulcrum had asked if he needed an extraction, and Kallus had said no. He wanted to be of the most use to the Rebellion, and the most use was here, under Thrawn's nose, and funneling them information. Bridger and the Lothal Rebels had taken that decision away from him, and the rage returned, more Huttese curses flitting through his head. Stupid _karking koochoo piece of poodo...!_

"... Well I guess I have no _choice_ now," Kallus hissed, his voice threatening to crack for all the pressure his vocal chords were suffering.

Bridger rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not happy about it either," he said. "For all I know you're playing a long-game to set us up."

The childish idiocy of that statement was beyond all possible descriptors, and there were not enough curse words in all the languages in the galaxy that could articulate Kallus' initial reaction to that sentence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself back under control. "I could. Say. The same. To you," he muttered, voice finally low and quiet, almost controlled. Almost. "I suppose for now we'll just have to... trust... each other." He offered a hand.

Bridger's face was curiously blank, eyes drinking in Kallus and mouth unnaturally neutral. Whatever his response to the gesture was aborted when Lieutenant Lyste's voice came through the cell door.

" _Open this door._ "

Bridger took Kallus' offered hand with both fists, curling his palm into a similar shape and using it to strike himself, comically clattering to the ground and changing his voice. "Stop! I'll tell you anything!" he shouted right as the door was opened.

Lyste looked down at the display and smiled. "A confession already, you _are_ good." The admiration shook off, however, as he delivered his message: "But it will have to wait. Admiral Thrawn's fleet just arrived, and he has summoned us his ship." A hundred possible scenarios ran through Kallus' head, none of them good as Lyste turned to the trooper guard. "Bring the prisoner."

Kallus blinked. "The prisoner?"

"To show the Grand Admiral how effective I am in dealing with a rebel threat," Lyste said.

… _Now_ he was trying to play politics? Was anything else going to go wrong? Kallus couldn't leave the boy to rot in the detention cell until he worked out a means of escape, now he had to worry about Lyste's ambition, _and_ deal with whatever Thrawn wanted of him? Kallus tried to solve at least one problem.

"He's a _bounty hunter,_ " Kallus corrected. "Not a rebel."

"He is from Lothal. That's enough."

Ambitious and just smart enough to be stupid. Kallus followed the lieutenant and Bridger out the cell and to the air lock for the awaiting transport ship. Two droids were there and quickly joined the entourage. Kallus recognized the C-1 droid from the factory, knew that at least one member of this idiot brigade would know what to do. The AP unit spoke briefly and simply and did nothing else. Another point in their favor, perhaps.

On the flight over Kallus started calculating. The most important thing was the meeting with Thrawn – if he had to guess the search for the mole was about to start in earnest, and he wouldn't be able to make a final decision on a patsy – instead be forced to choose one on the fly. That would depend on how many people were at the meeting and who best fit the profile. More important was who _wasn't_ at the meeting, and he was suddenly glad he had been looking over personnel records. Most likely it would be an opening salvo, Thrawn had a hint of drama in him and enjoyed watching his prey squirm. Kallus would probably have time to get Bridger out – that particular dance would take sheer artistry unless he really _did_ jettison the boy out the airlock. For now he would be taken to a different detention center, and that could give Kallus time to think. What he really needed was time to think.

"I haven't been summoned by ranking officers since that incident with the princess from Alderaan." Lyste sighed at the memory. "That was not a pleasant meeting. I shall endeavor to make a better impression this time."

"I'm sure you will, lieutenant," Kallus replied distantly, mind still working on his list of problems. If Bridger wasn't here he could endure the meeting and keep his head down, but with Bridger on the ship it was only a matter of time before Thrawn would interrogate him and then everything would shatter around Kallus' ears. He would need to find a different code cylinder to break the boy out, and that would be a feat... And there was figuring out how to liaise with the droids and how to smuggle them out – an escape pod to Lothal would be easiest to achieve but also easiest to track. The shuttle? Maybe...

Before Kallus had finished half a thought they were docked. Bridger was escorted to the detention cells and the droids wandered off to do whatever their secondary objectives were. Lyste was straightening his uniform, adjusting his hat and coughing to clear his throat.

"Relax, Lieutenant," Kallus said. "They can smell fear."

Lyste immediately put his hands down. "I just want to give a good impression," he said, "My reputation took a hit after the affair with the Alderaan humanitarian efforts, and I've only recently recovered enough to be temporarily in charge of that cruiser."

"None of that will matter," Kallus replied. "Results are all the empire cares about, your past is irrelevant."

"Yes, of course."

Lyste adjusted his hat.

Once on the command level Kallus took a deep breath, pupils dilating as he began to play the game. Thrawn was deliberate in everything, and no detail could be missed if the ISB agent wanted to survive. The troopers walked them passed a collection of other officers, several of whom Kallus had dealings with in the past – particularly a navy officer who had thought he knew how to keep Bridger contained (and he was _still_ going to kill that _karking Loth-rat!_ )

"Those were sector command staff," Lyste whispered to Kallus. "What are they doing here?"

Poor fool. "I can only guess," Kallus said blandly.

They approached the Grand Admiral's office, security tightening and more stormtroopers in the halls. At the door a trooper held out a hand. "Your code cylinders," he said.

Lyste puffed up. "Now see here," he said, "I'm a lieutenant."

The trooper was one of Thrawn's, however, and knew how to hold to orders. "Understood sir," the soldier replied, hand still out. "Your cylinders."

Kallus already had his out and handed it over. "Thrawn is known for being thorough," he said, trying to assuage the supply master. Lyste made a face and pulled his out, the stormtrooper clearing both of them before giving them back. But not without a small dig: "You're clear to proceed, _lieutenant_."

Lyste missed the jab, for which Kallus was grateful, and the pair entered the Chiss' office. They heard grunts and motion, turned left to see the Grand Admiral without his uniform jacket, fighting a pair of assassin droids and holding even ground. Lyste swallowed, but Kallus saw it for what it was: a blatant display of power. Thrawn was intimidating them before even speaking to them – this was definitely about the mole, then; Kallus would have to be very careful.

Thrawn finished his show and Constantine appeared beside them. "He is ready for us," he said softly. The three entered the office proper and inside was a man Kallus knew, oh, for a very long time.

"Colonel Yularen..." He stepped forward, straightening his back and puffing his chest out. "I don't know if you remember me from the Academy..."

"Of course," the Colonel said. "Young Agent Kallus. I keep tabs on all my star pupils."

He was considered a star? Yularen kept tabs on him? A flush of pride swept over Kallus, and he fought the urge to smile, trusted himself only with small talk: "What brings you to Lothal?"

"We're in need of his expertise," Thrawn said from behind them. Everyone turned and watched him enter, pulling at the cuff of a sleeve. The magic of seeing an old mentor, an old idol, immediately washed away at the sight of the Chiss Admiral, and Kallus cursed himself for losing that round of the game. If Yularen was here then the objective was obvious. "There's a Rebel spy in our midst; codename: Fulcrum. And perhaps today we are going to learn his true identity." Lyste, and Constantine sat down, Kallus and Yularen standing behind them as the Grand Admiral discussed the mole: first discovered at the Lothal factory, helping Rebel saboteurs escape; possibly leaking information on Sky Strike Academy; trace evidence that someone doctored surveillance. "A traitor in our ranks is feeding the Rebels information," Thrawn concluded. "That is the only logical explanation for their success and our failure."

Lyste, desperate to please, stood to his full height. "I will do everything in my power to find this spy."

"Thank you for you enthusiasm lieutenant," Thrawn dismissed, "however, few are above suspicion. ISB Colonel Yularen will question each of you."

Ah, that was one prong of this game: Yularen had taught Kallus the art of interrogation: how to subtly gather information, how to find tells and lies, he was a master of the craft. Kallus had only ever beaten him at the academy once, and he hoped his years of experience would help if he didn't find a patsy soon enough.

"In the meantime," Yularen said, gently firm, "be vigilant. Watch your subordinates closely, and your peers even closer."

"Our spy must be unmasked quickly," Thrawn said, "as I'm on the verge of locating the Rebel base in this sector." He opened up a star chart of the sector, one Kallus had seen several times by now, as well as the red highlighted planets. "I've narrowed it down to these worlds."

"From among thousands?" Constantine said in obvious surprise. "How?"

"An analysis of Rebel hyperspace routes, their attacks on imperial ships and facilities, and rather importantly, proximity to Lothal."

Oh. _Oh._

This was the main thrust of the investigation – the very meeting. It was no accident they had walked passed sector command, it was no accident that Thrawn casually mentioned homing in on the Rebel Base, the Grand Admiral was sewing the seeds of distrust amongst the command centers, making them spy each other to save him the work as well as deliberately baiting the mole into acting. Kallus was already aware of how close Thrawn was to finding the base, but handing that intelligence out to the rest of command now meant that everyone would be staring and watching that data. Kallus now had a very, very, narrow window to change that star chart in some way before it would be impossible to change, and Thrawn _knew it_. Clever bastard. And Bridger on top of all of this...

"You're dismissed," Thrawn said.

The three left, Constantine as ever getting back to his ship, Lyste wandering off before Colonel Yularen gestured to him.

"Agent Kallus," his old mentor said. "You've had multiple encounters with the Rebels in this sector. Any thoughts on our traitor?"

Now the game began in earnest. Kallus played his part and offered the obvious: "A high-level intelligence leak suggests an officer."

"True," Yularen said, "But in our technological system, accessing information tends to be easier than having the means to transmit it without the empire's knowledge."

Bait. Kallus offered a diversion. "Perhaps," he drew out, "the Communication Division?"

"Too obvious," Yularen dismissed. That cut out an entire swath of personnel Kallus had hoped to use as decoys. "Whoever this spy is, they have a method of transmitting that we are as yet unaware of."

… Unaware of? Bridger had said that his last transmission might have been intercepted. If the Empire didn't know how he was transmitting then whatever gave the Rebels the idea he was in trou— _Fulcrum_. He was going to _kill that Fest bastard._ He filed the emotion away for later, still playing a part: "If I can do anything to help."

"I'll let you know. Agent."

Kallus left the office considering his options. The Empire still didn't know how he was transmitting, that was good; if he could shake off this investigation then there might still be hope, but Yularen and Thrawn together was almost too much if he didn't find a patsy very soon.

"It is said no traitor escapes the eye of Yularen for long."

Kallus looked up. Lyste had waited for him?

… That was almost too good to be true.

The ISB agent blinked, allowing himself time to process the question.

"I guess we'll see."

The two started to walk again, but as they rounded the corner Governor Pryce was there, her eyes snapping to Kallus and lifting a datapad in her hand.

"Kallus," she said. "I saw a report that a shuttle theft from Lothal was prevented."

There was no time left: Kallus had to work with the hand he was dealt with. For the first time in his life Kallus did not take credit when it was freely offered to him, he instead stepped aside and put his hands on Lyste's back, gently pushing him forward. "Actually, Lieutenant Lyste, was responsible for that."

"Really?" Pryce asked, surprised. "Well that deserves commendation." She continued walking away while the supply master puffed up with pride.

"Thank you governor," Lyste said, even bowing as he and Kallus stepped back to let her go.

"Step carefully," Kallus said, beginning his manipulation, "ISB is watching her," he put his hands on the lieutenant's shoulders, code cylinder already in his hands as he made the switch, "You should too."

"What?" Lyste startled. "Why? You don't mean... _Pryce_ is the Rebel spy?"

Kallus barely nodded.

" _That's_ why she wasn't in the meeting," Lyste muttered, already drawing conclusions.

Almost too easy. "Thrawn has no proof yet but I'm sure he'd be grateful if you kept an eye on her."

"... He can count on me."

Lyste followed the governor, and Kallus looked at his patsy's code cylinder. Fall guy, code cylinder, eye on the governor and by extension Thrawn, and soon to throw suspicion off of himself. This hand was very good, Kallus could make a lot of plays now. The game wasn't over, however, and he knew that being confident now was asking for defeat. There was still the rebel base to worry about, and he hadn't a plan for that yet. He kept his mind working, always thinking as he moved down to the detention levels and turned off surveillance with Lyste's cylinder. The Rebel droids were there, arguing over something about codes as Kallus opened up the cell.

Bridger wasn't there, but he had been through enough of the boy's escapes that he knew to look up. It was as he was freeing Bridger that he learned their pick up didn't have the clearance codes for Thrawn's ship. Kallus explained the complication over the Rebel base – if Bridger could tell him the location he could sneak in and alter the data appropriately at his convenience.

But no, Bridger was still categorically stupid.

"So you can tell him? No way. You'll find out when you get there."

Of all the...

"Not if Thrawn destroys it first. I need to know its location so I can remove it from his database."

"If it's even on his list," Bridger accused.

The C-1's counterpart piped up, compromising on the debate by suggesting sneaking into Thrawn's office and getting both objectives complete. Competent droid, but Bridger was of course still an obstinate teenager.

"How will we know if Thrawn is in his office?" the boy demanded, expecting Kallus to come up short.

Kallus calmly pulled out his communicator and contacted Lyste. "Lieutenant Lyste, where are you?"

" _Following Pryce. She's heading to the detentions cells with Admiral Thrawn and Colonel Yularen._ "

"Stay on her, but remember lieutenant: don't let them see you."

He didn't bother looking to see if Bridger was impressed, that wasn't the point, now they had to move and get the boy a uniform. Supply was on the same level and Kallus knew how to dodge surveillance. As Supply Master Lyste had access to all storage units and it was easy to get Bridger a uniform. The boy was a decent height now, and his hair was dark enough and his face was round enough. He could pass if he kept his cap down. "You are now Lieutenant Lyste," Kallus said. "I believe you two met during the humanitarian effort from the Alderaan entourage. You kidnapped a princess, as I recall."

"That guy? Yeah, I remember him."

"Good. You need to impersonate him."

"Why?"

Kallus leveled a flat glare. "To get into Thrawn's office," he sated slowly to the child.

"I know _that_ but why him specifically?"

"Because I have his code cylinder, among other things."

Bridger stared at him, his face was curiously blank again, and Kallus was beginning to wonder if that meant anything. But the boy rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable in the uniform and adjusting his cap. He complained all the way to Thrawn's office, but Kallus paid it no mind, turning off security as necessary with Lyste's cylinder and making a perfect trail for Thrawn to follow later.

Bridger left a droid on watch and Kallus explained what he wanted the boy to do.

To his credit, Bridger didn't chafe or retort, just rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, suddenly self-important. "I am Lieutenant Lyste," he said with a passable core accent. He made a gesture with his hand. "Admiral Thrawn told you to expect us."

"Lieutenant Lyste. Thrawn told me to expect you."

A Jedi mind trick. Kallus had never seen one in person before, and the ones on Imperial recordings didn't do it justice. The stormtrooper didn't even blink, didn't fight, just immediately accepted Bridger's words and repeated them back. He offered his hand for the code cylinder and Bridger passed it over, unlocking the door. Perfect.

Kallus noted the training room off to the side was open now, and down the hall was the office proper. Bridger looked around as the C-1 droid rolled over to the desk terminal, eyes snapping to one of Thrawn's displays.

"Hey, that's Hera's-"

Kallus grabbed the boy's arm. "We're _not_ here to steal _art,_ " he hissed. Lyste wasn't bright enough for that and if Syndulla specifically was implicated in this little stunt Kallus didn't even want to guess and what conclusions Thrawn would draw. The boy couldn't afford to be stupid, not now.

The C-1 droid gave a quick binary statement, that Bridger needlessly translated.

"Chopper just stole the codes," the boy said defiantly. Kallus held his gaze, willing the boy to stop being a _child_. "… Fine," he grudged after a beat. "Chop, transmit the codes to Kanan."

 _Of all the-!_ "Are you crazy?!" Kallus whispered. "They'll intercept the transmission!"

"Yeah. That a secret code was transmitted from Thrawn's office."

… Oh. The boy could think after all. "Good point," he conceded.

The C-1 droid, Chopper, transmitted the codes and relayed that they would rendezvous at the hangar. Bridger smiled to hear the communication and Kallus asked Chopper to call up the star chart.

Bridger's eyes immediately snapped to one of the planets. "You were right. Thrawn _is_ close to finding our base."

"Droid," Kallus said, "Erase that planet and add another as a decoy."

The C-1 gave a long binary affirmative, doing as told and for a split second Kallus thought things _might_ go well for him.

" _Unfortunate news:_ " the AP unit communicated from outside. _"Grand Admiral Thrawn is headed for his office._ "

Sigh. Of course not.

"What?" Bridger demanded. "Try to stall him."

" _Oh. Wait. I can't. He's already at the door._ "

"I'll handle it," Kallus said, sneaking forward and into the open training room. The assassin droids were set up neatly and he slinked over. He reached behind the spine of the droid to unlock it from its moorings. Thrawn had dictated the override codes when he was showing off, Kallus just needed to reset the codes from the interface… something cartoonishly obvious to the point of irony... _Rebellion_ … Now to set up another droid… Input enemy identification… activate, and…

The droids powered up, eyes turning red and processing their new programming. They moved out of the training room and down the hall, and in seconds the sound of fighting broke out. Perfect.

Bridger ran out, Thrawn shouting Lyste's name; the boy looked honestly impressed. "Assassin droids?"

"You're welcome," Kallus replied. With the base problem taken care of he had to smuggle Bridger out and find Lyste to switch back code cylinders before he was captured. They raced to the docking bays, doors opening to an Imperial shuttle, two troopers at its base, presumably Rebels in disguise.

"There's our ride," Bridger said.

Kallus was looking at something else: "And there's Governor Pryce," he pointed out. Why was the governor here? Had Thrawn contacted her? Where was Lyste? What was going-

Pryce must have given an order, because one of the troopers at her side shot at Bridger's disguised rebel. Bridger stiffened and reacted immediately.

"Chopper, seal the doors."

Kallus turned to see more stormtroopers running towards them as the doors were closed. Things were about to get hairy. Bridger and the droids made for the shuttle; Kallus took a different track. He had to find Lyste… Pryce was no slouch in combat and with one of Bridger's allies stunned the other was eventually overcome. Kallus saw a hint of movement behind some boxes, a man in brown uniform darting forward, and Lyste - just smart enough to be stupid - pulled out a weapon and stunned the Governor. Stars above, this could not have gone better if he _planned_ it. Right there in the middle of the docking bay?

"I've got her!" Lyste was saying. "She's the traitor! Trooper, are you alright? Trooper?"

"Bad choice," Bridger said glibly, and Kallus heard the recognition as the ISB agent made his move.

"You! You're the shuttle thief who-!" Kallus tackled Lyste to the ground, the impact dazing the supply master and quickly switched code cylinders. Perfect. His patsy was ready.

"Kallus. Come on!" Bridger called from the shuttle ramp.

"There's been a change of plans now that _I've_ captured Fulcrum," Kallus said as the ramp started to lift. Bridger's face was blank again, frown just hinting at his jaw, before he nodded. "I can do more good here," Kallus said, and the ramp closed as the shuttle took off to escape. Kallus grabbed a discarded blaster and started firing - hopeless of course even on the laughably low defense of an imperial shuttle but it made for a good show. He saw from his peripheral vision reinforcements were coming, others started to fire and Kallus moved to his next bit of theatre: he grabbed the supply master and dragged him to his feet. "Traitor!" he shouted. " _You're_ the Rebel spy!"

Lyste blinked, eyes widening. "What?"

"Troopers! _Seize him!_ "

"What are you talking about?" The look on Lyste's face was open, confused, trying to catch up to something happening too fast.

"Take him away," Colonel Yularen said, stormtroopers taking a firm hand to the lieutenant.

It finally clicked, and Lyste's eyes doubled in size. "No. Wait! I'm not the spy Governor Pryce is!"

Everyone ignored him.

"It seems you stopped our spy from escaping, Agent Kallus," Yularen said.

"Tell them, Kallus! It's her! She's the one! _Kallus!_ "

Kallus ignored him, watched as Pryce was helped to her feet. Cleanup was next, everyone submitted reports and evidence was gathered. For an event this big - one of the Empire's own arrested for treason – the processing was done immediately. Yularen questioned everyone, Kallus reciting that Pryce had suggested commendation for Lyste, that he had left shortly after and Kallus waited at the docking bay for a shuttle to arrive to take him back. Governor Pryce arrived just as a shuttle did and was talking to the troopers on the ramp - apparently Rebels and fired on them. Kallus was assessing the situation to provide back up when he saw Lyste tackle the governor. Simple story, easy to remember and difficult to be distracted from.

There were also the questions on Lyste's character: that he was humiliated with the affair with the Alderaan princess, desperate to be noticed for his work. All true. He admired Kallus, also true but twisted to being part of his cover in retrospect. This was trickier to navigate, Yularen was in his element now and Kallus had to be very careful how he worded his sentences, but he had always been deliberate in his phrasing even at the academy, and he always told Yularen what he wanted to hear and what he expected to hear. By the end Yularen was convinced Kallus was a dutiful ISB Agent, thorough and detailed and uncomfortable around Lyste's fawning - regretful he had missed such an obvious sign that something was off.

Thrawn called a final meeting.

"This code cylinder confirms our suspicions," Yularen said, placing the object on Thrawn's desk. "He used it to override security, release the prisoner, and contact the Rebels."

Pryce held her side and gave a small grunt. "I have my own proof of Lyste's treachery." Then, despite her condescension of Kallus' inquiries to the Lothal factories, turned to him with grateful eyes. "Thank you for your brave actions, Agent Kallus."

"Well done," Constantine added.

But a good ISB agent would not be satisfied with a partial victory, and Kallus was nothing if not thorough. "Unfortunately not in time to stop him from an assassination attempt on the admiral," he said, putting regret in his voice and bowing his head. "My apologies, sir."

"None required," Thrawn dismissed. "He did not succeed. The Empire will make a note of your service, Agent Kallus. You may go."

"Thank you, Grand Admiral."

… He had survived the game.

* * *

" _Agent Kallus? May I sit with you?_ "

" _I've heard I'm being reassigned soon, my work as Supply Master at the Capitol might have at last been noticed. If it has then I can put my good work in other areas. I wonder if we'll work together?_ "

" _It... looks like a piece of the retaining wall, sir._ "

" _Agent Kallus! What happened? All this broken glass – you're bleeding!_ "

" _A confession already? You_ are _good._ "

" _I just want to make a good impression._ "

" _... He can count on me._ "

" _I've got her! She's the traitor! Trooper, are you alright?_ "

" _No. Wait! I'm not the spy Governor Pryce is!_ "

" _Tell them, Kallus! It's her! She's the one!_ Kallus!"

* * *

His eyes snapped open and his entire body stiffened, nose sucking in a breath as adrenaline boiled through his brain and he was instantly awake, taking in his surroundings before the yellow glow of the moon stone reminded him of where he was. Sighing, he sank back into his sleep couch and closed his eyes. He could still see Lyste, eyes wide and face open in slow-dawning shock, even horror. The man was dutiful, thorough, easily impressionable. He was a brown-noser, wishing for the better life but never good enough to play the game. He made the perfect patsy, it was nothing personal, why was he dreaming about this?

Sighing, he got up and looked at the chrono. Three hours sleep.

He tried to go back to sleep, but it was for naught. He got up and went about his duties, taking an extra cup of cafe with him to his office as he turned the Bridger transmission on and start his work.

"... _It won't be easy. There'll be... loss and sacrifice..._ "

Lyste, open shock, realizing what had happened.

" _Tell them, Kallus!_ "

Kallus rubbed his forehead, wondering what was wrong with him. It had been two weeks since the affair, he had testified at the hearing (Lyste was suspiciously absent. All traitors were absent from their hearings to prevent affecting the outcome, but this was the first time Kallus wondered where the traitor was, wondered where _Lyste_ was), the decision had been made, Thrawn was off his trail, it was well and truly done. Why was his mind still circling around this?

He continued going through the reports, eying a possible shipment for the Rebels to attack, and had to remind himself that he could not use reports he had immediate access to. The mole might have been removed, but the game was still on, and Kallus now had to be more circumspect in his work. His overriding priority was to learn how the new TIE prototype production was going, and with no way to know through his own circles he would have to use unconventional means – riskier means. It was so much easier before Thrawn came.

"... _I remember when things were better. Maybe not great but better than this..._ "

" _Tell them, Kallus!_ "

Lyste...

He shook his head.

That night he rode out to the communication tower. It was risky, transmitting so soon after Lyste's hearing – he almost didn't go, but while things were wrapped up on the Imperial side they were not with Fulcrum.

" _Clearance codes._ "

"By the light of Lothal's moons."

" _What do you need, Fulcrum?_ "

Kallus took a deep, measured breath. "If you _ever_ tell the others I need an extraction when I specifically told you I did _not_ I will find out who you are and feed you to the beasts that live on Geonosis' moons. Do you have any idea what your little stunt caused?"

" _Your branch already gave their reports,_ " Fulcrum said, " _Aside from your asinine decision to stay under cover everything ended well._ "

"Ended well? _Ended well?_ " Kallus' voice started to strangle again before he took another breathe. "I just implicated a decent man for treason!"

" _Which means you get to live a little longer. That's a win._ "

"It is _not_!"

And then, Kallus heard a smile. " _Really? Is it any different than murdering Minister Maketh Tua to corner the Rebels? Or burning Tarkintown? Or starving Ibaar? Or torturing Kanan Jarrus?_ "

Kallus shook his head. "That was all different," he said, "I was doing my job. It wasn't personal."

" _Just like the Lasan campaign?_ "

Kallus stiffened, sucked in a breath.

" _That's how the Empire gets you, Fulcrum. They detach you from everything, make everything an efficient routine or program or protocol. They make it 'not personal,' but for the people of the galaxy it is nothing_ but _personal. People_ die _, there are consequences for every broad policy or writ the Emperor enacts. You've seen entire civilizations wiped out, committed murder and torture – those would be war crimes in the old Republic – but it's just a matter or procedure._ "

Kallus reeled as the lens of his life was so suddenly replaced. It wasn't _just_ Aresko and Grint who had died from Lord Vader's plans to eradicate the Rebels. Tua had been an incompetent thorn in Kallus' side, and he had thrilled at the idea of removing the problems she created – he played for the camera droid and gleefully put blame at the Rebels' feet. Only now did he realize he had stopped seeing Tua as a person.

He had never even met a person on Ibaar when he enacted the policy to starve them to draw the Rebels out. Did any die as a result of his actions? People _had_ died in Tarkintown, he had read the reports, seen the numbers - but that was all they were, numbers. Only now did he realize each number was a person, a being with a family and a life before their farms were taken and they forced to live in a collective of homeless vagabonds.

Kanan Jarrus was a person, a Jedi, and Kallus had followed procedure and used a probe droid, watched his face twitch as the man's world fell away to the drugs and then the pain of the torture table. He'd heard the screams, and that was when it started being personal. The ISB agent in Kallus' head turned off and he saw someone in pain, and saw the Grand Inquisitor _enjoying_ the pain. It wasn't just inappropriate, it was _wrong_.

Lasan, too, stopped being impersonal when he watched beings bubble away and die. It stopped being impersonal when a Lasat had been defeated and, instead of cheaply looking for a final blow or dishonorable cheat, had handed over its… _his_ , weapon to Kallus before being melted away. Using the ion disruptors had been _wrong._

Kallus had been _wrong_ to use probe droids on prisoners, Kallus had been wrong to beat prisoners, he had been wrong to participate in the Lasan massacre, he had been wrong to starve planets, he had been wrong to enjoy Tua's death, he had been wrong to throw Lasan in Zeb's face, he had been wrong to frame the innocent Lyste, he had been wrong, _wrong, wrongwrongwrongwrong…_

He heaved, suddenly sick to realize just how far he had fallen, how badly he'd judged his life. He wasn't bringing order, he was hurting and killing and committing _genocide_. Saying it wasn't personal was little more than a defense mechanism, a simple manipulative way to prevent himself from realizing the atrocities he had committed. He retched, and he mourned, and he had no idea how he was ever, _ever_ , going to make up for this.

"Space," he cursed, shaking and sweating. " _Space…_ "

" _Fulcrum,_ " the voice on the other side of the transmitter said, " _Fulcrum._ "

Kallus fumbled to respond, managing a garbled grunt, the noise of a question as his world continued to shatter around him.

" _... I know what it's like,_ " the other Fulcrum said. " _I've been fighting since I was six years old. I've had to do things to stay alive, and I've done things in this war that are unforgivable._ "

"How," Kallus asked, voice shaky, threaded. "How do you go on knowing just what you've done?"

" _That's the difference between us and them,_ " Fulcrum said. " _We understand the weight of what we do. We may make those decisions, but we don't make them lightly. We wake up at night thinking about what we've done, we drink when we need to forget or maybe when we need to remember - and when the time comes we'll do it again, because we know there will come a time when we don't have to do it anymore._ "

"... is that how you sleep at night?" Kallus asked.

" _... I don't sleep._ "

Then they were the same. Kallus held his head in his hands, still shaking, sick to his stomach. Fulcrum sometimes said something, sometimes didn't; he helped Kallus ride through the storm as the ISB agent in him completely shattered. It was dawn, or near it, when Kallus finally pulled himself together, and he looked at the transmission box, the holo-symbol of Fulcrum, and the voice on the other side.

"From one Fulcrum to another," Kallus said, "I hope the time when we don't have to do this anymore comes sooner rather than later."

" _We all hope for that. Fulcrum out._ "

"Fulcrum out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Yeah. That.
> 
> We've dropped a hint at who the other Fulcrum is, but no word yet until Kallus gets out of the Empire - which he had the perfect opportunity to do and didn't take it. This chapter is really about watching Kallus in action - making decisions, adjusting, and of course being perpetually irritated at Ezra - ironic, since he listens to Ezra's transmission on loop while he works. Props need to be given to Kallus' voice actor - he really sells being knocked for a loop when he sees Ezra and wanting to rip him to shreds, and then in the next breath giving subtle undertones of delivery with Lyste and Pryce and then showing open admiration at Yularn. Like, the range is incredible.
> 
> Next chapter: well, Kallus doesn't know it but Thrawn knows he's the mole. Things are sure to go well. Right?


	4. Chapter 4

Kallus went to sickbay and asked for some pills to help him sleep at night. For three days he slept like the dead and was hung over from the medication at work. He kept to his office and didn't interact much with others, letting his dazed state pass off as the medication. On the fourth day he woke… not rested but more alert than he had been since before Bridger had tried to extract him. He was able to take a deep breath without choking on it, and several members of ISB said they were happy to see him with his color back, and suggested that he take a week leave to get even more of it.

Kallus thanked them sincerely, and spent four hours catching up on reports that he had only barely been able to read prior.

Still no intel on the factories, Pryce and Thrawn were in nearly daily meetings over production of their new fighter, now with Moff Tarkin. That meant bigger things were happening, and he knew the project was ready for testing when Captain Skerris arrived planet-side. Reports of the Lothal rebels had dropped off again, as was their wont, which usually meant something bigger was in the works. Thrawn knew that and said as much in the security meetings, but left Kallus out of the details of his next move. That was worrying.

He ate at the commissary (and Lyste wasn't there to give him company…), another protein loaf and a cup of caf. Thrawn was off planet with Skerris, and Kallus knew that a test flight was likely being made or planned, and he wished sorely to be a part of that test so he could give the intelligence to the Rebels. Concurrently, without Thrawn there, Kallus had some room to breathe and consider his options:

If the Chiss Admiral deemed him not privy to the meetings that meant he would have to be even more careful with how he gathered data. Picking targets based on how many people saw a report was not enough any more. Riskier methods needed to be considered, and it was while he was watching a pair of MSE droid twitter down a corridor that a thought occurred to him. Not just MSE droids either… he could pretend he was cleaning up after the Lyste affair (he winced) and go through inventory again and…

"Turn the volume up, turn it up!"

Kallus looked up to see someone pushing a button on a 'pad and the commissary lighting up with a hologram. A redhead in white - Senator Mon Mothma?

"Turn it up!"

" _... I name the Emperor himself for ordering the brutal attacks on the people of Gormann. Their peaceful world is one of countless systems helpless against his oppressive rule. This massacre is proof that our self-appointed emperor is little more than a lying executioner, imposing his tyranny under the pretense of security. We cannot allow this evil to stand-_ "

The holo disappeared, troopers fanning out and demanding to know who was broadcasting the propaganda. A communications member stood up, asking how it could be propaganda when it was on the Imperial channel. He was ushered out for questioning, and for the first time Kallus wondered what that actually meant.

He moved quickly to ISB and got as much intelligence as he could - the speech was some twenty minutes in length, carefully crafted and artfully delivered to the entire Senate - early evening on Coruscant but two hours ago on Lothal's time zone. He gathered the key members of his team and showed them the speech in full.

"Wow, that woman has brass."

"The Rebels are sure to see that transmission," Kallus said, "Words like that will affect them, inspire them to do something. We'll have to be extra careful about rumors and activities. Reports might have to be hourly now instead of daily for a while."

"So much for ducking out a lunch…"

Kallus leveled a flat glare.

"Do you _really_ think the Rebels will do something?"

Kallus raised an eyebrow. "One off-the-cuff transmission from a boy barely old enough to fly is still inspiring insurgency across the galaxy three years after its broadcast. A carefully thought-out and brilliantly executed speech like that is sure to inspire much more. To your posts. I'll contact Admiral Thrawn and ask about the security of the factories."

Kallus of course did not contact Thrawn other than a cursory message reporting the broadcast and asking the admiral to advise on if he should step up security in the factories in preparation for an inspired attack. While waiting for a reply he put in a request for a few MSE droids for a routine purge of programming and read up on the latest reports from the probe droids. There was a file on Death Troopers being ordered to Lothal, and that made Kallus feel several beads of sweat on his forehead, but he couldn't read more than that before Thrawn replied.

" _Agent Kallus_."

"Admiral," the ISB man said, standing to his full height. "Have you received my message?"

" _I have; you are as thorough as ever and your perceptiveness continues to impress._ "

"Then shall I step up security?"

" _No, Agent. That won't be necessary. Captain Skerris and I have the situation well in hand._ "

Kallus gave nothing away, only allowing a small beat before asking, "Commander, if I may, neither of you are on Lothal."

" _That is correct, Agent. For now the factories are safe and I am currently enacting a plan to deal with both the senator and the Rebels. Keep an eye out for infiltrator reports - they are forwarded to me automatically but a second set of eyes will always help._ "

"Of course, Admiral."

For thirty-six hours Kallus watched the infiltrator reports, and the droids reported nothing, though one did have its report deleted from the Lothal intelligence hub. Kallus forwarded the report dutifully, though he suspected Thrawn had deleted the report himself. The Chiss Admiral was clearly not convinced the mole had been removed, and Kallus worried more about his position, but thirty-six hours later it didn't matter, because everyone watched another transmission from Senator Mothma:

" _This is Senator Mon Mothma. I've been called a traitor for speaking up against a corrupt galactic senate, a senate manipulated by the sinister tactic of the Emperor. For too long I've watched the heavy hand of the Empire strangle our liberties, stifle our freedoms in the name of ensuring our safety. No longer. Despite Imperial threats, despite the Emperor himself, I have no fear as I take new action, for I am not alone. Beginning today we stand together as allies. I hereby resign from the Senate, to fight for_ you. _Not from the distant halls of politics but from the front lines. We will not rest until we bring an end to the Empire, until we restore our Republic. Are you with me?_ "

"How is this being transmitted?" Kallus demanded, but all of ISB was at a loss as to how it had broken Imperial channel encryption - the entire galaxy was watching that broadcast live on the holonet; traffic quintupled over the course of the next two hours, everyone and their mother watching the transmission before the communication division could find and delete the broadcast. Capital City found enough citizens to have a riot, massing in squares and pushing against stormtroopers. Kallus was forced to put down the demonstration, sending various tear gases to quell the different species and arrest the most obvious dissidents.

Moreover, he could not find a way for them to escape - the Lothal Rebels would have their hands full with the likely flood of new recruits to the cause and he had no way of contacting Ryder Azadi to let him know about the arrests.

Thrawn returned with the smug look of satisfaction, saying the premiere flight had gone well - after sending Captain Skerris to medical. Kallus didn't ask and knew better than to find out from the other Fulcrum, but after that the work on the factories stepped up in earnest, and Kallus knew he didn't have much time, especially if Thrawn still suspected a spy.

For the next month he slowly took control over every MSE droid he could order without being suspicious, planted recorders in protocol and astromech droids on the command levels, and started gathering a new list of possible patsies. He checked and rechecked his go bags, expecting the worst, and got even less sleep as he went through his various new waves of recorded conversations - most of them useless since Thrawn was so meticulous in what he said. Kallus did not know it if Thrawn did not want him to know it, and Kallus knowing that made him even more nervous that he was found out. Death Troopers were assigned quarters, but Kallus never saw them enter, only that they were assigned to Seventh Fleet - _Thrawn's_ fleet. Plans were stepping up...

Then Thrawn summoned a meeting between himself, Governor Pryce, and Admiral Constantine. The Admiral meant that this wasn't about the factories, this was a military meeting, likely about an upcoming campaign, and Kallus was again snubbed for the gathering. He actually preferred that, even as his subordinates chafed that their competent head was being looked over for promotion. He selected a MSE droid and watched Thrawn's shuttle land - ostensibly to look over security but waiting carefully to activate his droid.

The meeting was in Thrawn's administrative office, and when Kallus started listening he heard Constantine asking if all the secrecy is truly necessary.

" _We still have a traitor in our midst. We need to be highly cautious about what we discuss and where we speak. And what I'm about to say cannot fall into the rebels' hands._ "

" _Admiral Thrawn._ " Moff Tarkin, likely from a holo-call. " _I trust the information you have for me was worth the wait._ "

" _The rebels of the so-called 'Phoenix Squadron' are about to launch a major military strike against the Empire._ "

" _They wouldn't dare._ "

" _Oh, believe me they would. Everything up to this moment has been a rehearsal. The real performance is about to begin. I'm counting on it._ "

It was around then that Kallus started shaking. His ears flooded with the sound of his heartbeat and it took several breaths to get himself under control.

" _You have my attention,_ " Tarkin said. " _What target will the rebels attack?_ "

" _I believe they're about to strike our most important facility in the region:_ " Thrawn was saying, " _the TIE Defender factory here on Lothal. My spies report General Dodonna's fleet is en route to reinforce Commander Sato and Captain Syndulla._ "

" _Where is the fleet massing?_ " Tarkin asked.

" _I have yet to uncover its precise location-_ "

" _A coordinated attack by multiple rebel cells is unprecedented!_ " Pryce. She never did handle stress well.

" _And it's exactly this moment I've been waiting for to wipe them out,_ " Thrawn said, the epitome of the calm assurance of victory.

" _I want you to capture their leadership._ "

" _In such a battle it may not be possible to take prisoners,_ " Thrawn cautioned, though Kallus could hear blood in the Chiss admiral's voice.

" _Ah, but a man of your talents will manage,_ " Tarkin cut off. " _If we are to crush this rebellion, we must first make examples of its leadership._ "

" _As you wish, Governor Tarkin._ "

The transmission ended.

Kallus got up immediately and moved back to his office, mind swirling with what he'd just learned. How soon was the attack? A quick look of troop deployments showed the Lothal blockade departing in less than eight hours... he _had_ to get word to the Rebels. He couldn't risk sitting on this information until it was safe to transmit, he had to leave almost immediately. And that was assuming Thrawn hadn't doctored the reports. Kallus looked up to the sky, wondering what he would see in space if he had a telescope.

… No, he had to leave now.

Cursing, he deactivated the MSE droid and purged its programming remotely, getting up and grabbing his bo-rifle out of habit. He paused, looking at the weapon, caressing it with a gloved hand. He couldn't afford to leave armed – he only did that when out on assignment, and this certainly wasn't an assignment – he couldn't risk Thrawn seeing it and cross checking against his schedule. Pursing his lips, Kallus left it in his office and made his way out of the dome.

It was well passed sunset, Lothal's twin moons rising to the northeast as he sped off the highway and over the grasses. He checked the chrono almost every five minutes, knowing the fleet would be leaving in a few scant hours and desperate to give the rebels as much of a head start as he could. Kallus took a deep breath through his nose when he reached the communication tower, ascended it and pulled out his rickety old transmitter, turning it on.

"This is Fulcrum with an urgent message," he said quickly, "Thrawn knows abou-"

And he watched as his transmission hologram went red. That had never happened before... what...? He adjusted the dials, wondering what had happened.

"By the light of Lothal's moons."

No...

Kallus spun around in his seat to see the Chiss Admiral silhouetted by Lothal's moonlight, his red eyes stark in the darkness. "That is your code phrase isn't it, Agent Kallus?" the admiral said, stepping in, "Or would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?"

A hundred thoughts flitted through Kallus' head in the span of a frown: he thought about the meeting he had overheard; the staging of making a secret military meeting that didn't include ISB and closing everything off, and yet the detail-oriented Chiss had neglected the vents; how the the meeting with Moff Tarkin had been deliberately staged and Thrawn deliberately talking about locating the rebel base. He thought about how he had fallen for the ploy and now he was caught, about the protocol for capturing a traitor and the trial with him absent because he would most likely be dead, about all the ways information could be extracted from him – would they bring in an Inquisitor? He thought about the speeder bike, how he used the same one every time he transmitted, how he wiped its GPS every ride but how the absence of data was just as damning as the inclusion of it, how he had never bothered to check for trackers because he was so confident in his cover. He thought about his broken leg, healed from his plight on Geonosis' moon but not yet trained up to strength, and how that would affect his performance, how he had witnessed Thrawn spar against assassin droids and won, how this would not be an easy fight. He thought about how completely he had failed: how the rebels were about to be attacked and how he had never once outwitted Thrawn, how the admiral had strung him along, how the fleet was going to leave in mere hours, how Zeb was going to die.

_Kriff_ , Zeb was going to _die._

_And it was all his fault._

All this in the time it took Kallus to frown, and for Thrawn to pull out his jammer.

"I'm afraid your rebel friends won't receive your warning."

Failure. Complete failure.

Kallus snarled and lead with kick; Thrawn threw a punch that Kallus blocked, followed with two quick jabs and a punch that Kallus ducked under. Thrawn followed up with a perfect blow to his sternum and then grabbed the ISB agent's head, flipping him over the side so fast Kallus found himself flat on his back before he really understood what happened. Kallus jumped to his feet, sucking in a breath. The bloodrush to his head had stopped with that blow, the overwhelming sense of failure drowning out by the overriding priority: get the jammer. He held ready stance, glared at Thrawn.

He wasn't even winded.

"Your technique is good," Thrawn said, arms behind his back in perfect imperial stance, condescension dripping out of his quiet, measured words, "but limited by your training at the Imperial Academy." Kallus reached behind him, finding the collection of stormtrooper helmets and grabbing it. "Predicable-"

Kallus threw the helmet – the Chiss' reflexes were too fast and he caught the projectile, but the bulk of the helmet blocked his vision; Kallus threw his legs out and swept Thrawn off of his feet. Both the helmet and the jammer fell to the floor, and Kallus was up and ramming his foot down on the blocker before Thrawn could get up.

The jammer broken, the transmitter went blue. Satisfaction. He turned to Thrawn.

"You talk too much," Kallus grunted, holding his fists up.

Thrawn finally took the fight seriously, lifting his own fists as well. Chiss reflexes were a problem but not insurmountable, Kallus had fought Lasat and won – even Zeb.

Thrawn kicked to the hip, Kallus threw a punch that landed. Thrawn threw two punches in retaliation, collar bone and an uppercut, followed with a kick to the ribs and a devastating right cross. There was another blow to the head, a grapple, and a knee to the chest which set Thrawn up for a foot to Kallus' leg – right where the break had occurred. Pain exploded around the old injury and Kallus was on his knees, leaving himself wide open for a roundhouse that sent him careening out of the tower and out to the landing. Kallus' vision was swimming from so many blows to the head, one of his ribs was broken and throbbing fire burned through his leg.

That was when the Death Troopers came, each grabbing an arm and hoisting him to his feet. He could barely stand.

"You have the heart of a Rebel," Thrawn said, a simple statement of fact.

Kallus grunted, "I'll take that as a compliment."

The admiral's eyes narrowed, his lips pouting into a frown. The answer had displeased him.

Thrawn reentered the communication tower, the Death Troopers dragging him in. Binders were pulled out and he was strung up over a support beam, feet barely touching the floor and pulling as his abused ribcage. One of his eyes was swelling – the right cross, he suspected – and the troopers administered their own beating, looking for weak point and taking two agonizing minutes to make him feel even worse.

"That's enough for now," Thrawn ordered, "I need him conscious."

When Kallus looked over he saw the Admiral looking over the transmitter, running slender fingers over the dials and almost caressing the ancient machine.

"Hiding your communications in the noise of local transmissions," the Chiss said. "No one uses them anymore - it's really quite clever - but easy to pick up when one knows the code phrase: the light of Lothal's moons. Rather artful but art has always been something of a passion of mine. You clearly indicated your transmissions were made from Lothal, and that they were done at night. The code phrase itself was picked up in a more detailed breakdown of the doctored footage from the Defender factory. Your work there was rather sloppy, though all accounts suggest you did not stage being thrown through the view monitors. Medical reports listed your injuries - that you had the presence of mind to send troopers to the east gate after just coming to is almost impressive."

"You want to gloat," Kallus accused. "How Imperial." He had lost track the number of people who lost the rebels because they wanted to gloat.

Thrawn was silent for a moment, his lips pouting again, but whatever reaction Kallus elicited disappeared almost as quickly as it came. Instead he turned on a portable holo-viewer, pulling up the star map of the sector. "You may have transmitted your warning, Agent, but in doing so you've given me the last piece of the puzzle. Now this is the trajectory of General Dodonna's fleet, and this is the trajectory of your Fulcrum transmission. Taken separately they mean nothing, but together..."

"Nothing," Kallus said, putting in all the derision he could find and hiding all the anxiety he felt. "There's no planet there. The Rebels are smarter than you give them credit for."

"Pity you do not study art, Agent Kallus," Thrawn replied genially, "there is much it can show you, if you know where to look." He held up a data disk, inserted it into the projector. "Such as a system that does not appear on Imperial charts but is represented in the art of the ancient people of this sector." The star chart shifted to a painting, common on Lothal's ancient hills and the last vestiges of the old ways. It overlayed the star chart beat for beat, including adding a planet that Kallus had spent so much time and risked so much deleting. "I believe this... Atollon. Now the home of your Rebel base."

… It was too late.

"Admiral Konstantine," Thrawn said into his comlink, "deploy the fleet to these coordinates. We will join you shortly."

Outside a shuttle was landing, boarding ramp lowering, and Kallus was forced to descend the tower and cross the plains to the shuttle. More Death Troopers were there, chatter encrypted and ominous sounding. Kallus knew they weren't going to go to Capitol City, the protocol of finding a traitor; they were going to board Thrawn's star destroyer and go to Atollon to engage in battle. What Kallus didn't understand was why. Even with the immediacy of the coming battle, Kallus should have been shuttled to a detention center while Thrawn went off to battle. Instead they boarded the same shuttle, up to the star destroyer.

Even there, they did not follow protocol. Kallus was not escorted to the cell block but to the bridge, pushed to his knees while Thrawn took his position. Governor Pryce was there, and she stared at him with cold blue eyes.

"And to think I thanked you for capturing Lyste," she growled. "I can't wait to get you on a torture table."

"Now, now, Governor, there will be more than enough time for that after this meager skirmish."

"Why is he even here?" Pryce demanded.

"To watch," Thrawn said casually. He turned red eyes to Kallus, a soft, confident grin on his blue face. "I want the rebels to know utter defeat. All of them. What better way to crush a spy than to have him watch his allies all fall because of his mistake? There is a certain poetic justice to it - wouldn't you agree, Agent Kallus?"

The ISB agent said nothing, looked away.

* * *

Atollon may have been parsecs away, but hyperspace made the journey a scant ten minutes, and the viewports of the bridge showed five stardestoyers, more of Thrawn's fleet exiting hyperspace, and a rebel command ship going down in flames. The massacre had already begun.

"What of Governor Tarkin's prisoners?" Pryce asked.

"General Dodonna is known for his courage," Thrawn explained, "He wouldn't be aboard the first vessel to flee. Its crew is therefore irrelevant. Open a hailing frequency. Let us meet the players now that we understand the board." A holo-image of several rebels appeared, Syndulla, Sato, a face Kallus knew from reports but had never seen in person. They all recoiled at the image of Thrawn, however they saw it, and the Grand Admiral was, as in all things, measured and cordial. "General Dodonna, Commander Sato, Captain Syndulla. At last, we meet in this theater of war, however briefly. There is no escape, and your forces are badly outnumbered. This, uh, 'rebellion,' ends today."

" _We'll never surrender to you, Thrawn,_ " Syndulla said, eyes fierce even in the face of the Seventh Fleet.

Thrawn smiled, Kallus could just see it in profile. "You misunderstand, Captain," he said gently. "I'm not accepting surrenders at this time. I want you to know failure, utter defeat, and that it is I who delivers it crashing down upon you. Now, let us proceed." The holo-call ended, and everyone waited for the Rebels' move. Pryce kept shifting her position, crossing and uncrossing her arms, shifting her weight, pursing her lips while Thrawn was perfectly still, hands behind his back in perfect imperial posture. Kallus watched the two, the Death Troopers at either side of him as silent guard. The position was so familiar he felt like he was having an out of body experience – standing in a cruiser or stardestroyer with perfect confidence of victory, knowing he had accounted for everything. Then one of the rebels revealed himself to be a Jedi and everything changed. Then a lothrat of a boy had performed Jedi trickery and shoved him aside before he delivered a final blow to a Lasat. Then the _Ghost_ arrived and whisked the Rhodian escapee away. Then Trayvis failed in his mission and the Rebels escaped. Then a measly AT-TE had managed to topple an AT-AT. Then a prototype ship design had come out of nowhere and decimated his blockade. Then the Rebels had somehow navigated an _imploded star cluster_. Then... then he'd met Garazeb Orrelios. Assured victory meant nothing to a rebel, only a challenge to overcome. That was when Kallus realized the truth: he and Thrawn were the same. They both were cerebral fighters with muscle to double down on their tactics, but they were both trained tacticians, conditioned to fight a certain way and make certain predictions. Kallus had gotten his one decent move against Thrawn when he'd thrown a helmet at the Chiss – something unexpected had given him his slight chance to break the jammer and continue broadcasting his message. Perhaps there was a chance...?

"Sir, the fleet is advancing," a monitor said. The viewportal zoomed in to see cruisers and command ships, the _Ghost_ , seemingly the entirety of Phoenix Squadron flying up and taking formation.

"Sato is employing a Danaan tactic," Thrawn said, "Bold. But I'd expect no less from the best commander to ever come out of the Mykapo system." He turned to the subordinate. "Reinforce our center and send in the fighters." A pause, then, "Contact Admiral Konstantine."

Kallus watched the holo. " _Yes, Grand Admiral?_ "

"Konstantine," Thrawn said. "Keep your Interdictor cruiser back until I order otherwise."

" _Why not just attack now with overwhelming force? I could-_ "

"Because I know these rebels," Thrawn said, cutting off Konstantine's objections. Kallus watched the admiral's face as the grand admiral continued: "I've studied them. They will, no doubt, defy convention and attempt something unexpected. We will be prepared for it. As long as you do _exactly_ as I say."

Unhindered derision, but Konstantine managed to say, " _As you wish._ " Kallus had seen this before, too – being the smartest person in the room and giving very clear directions only for subordinates to disobey for some kind of glory. He had nearly died on Seelos because Konstantine specifically left and took his air support with him, had seen Grint and Aresko on any number of occasions manage to muck up an op because of incompetence and lack of vision. It would seem that things didn't change even when the scale did, and Kallus couldn't quite stop a smirk, seizing the opportunity. "Fighting over glory?" he asked, adding a layer of comically fake surprise.

"I do not require glory," Thrawn corrected, "only results for my Emperor." That would be his downfall, Kallus realized. He, too, had only done his best work, tried to be the most proficient ISB agent possible, had risen through the ranks through ability rather than politics, had been proud of his work and just arrogant enough to think he could do any assignment that was handed to him. The rebels taught him how fallible he was, Zeb taught him how different he was from the Empire, and Fulcrum had shown him _how_ he was different. Thrawn might not have done this for personal reasons, but this was a personal attack – he had rankled when Tarkin had ordered him to take prisoners, and he was pulling rank on subordinates to keep them in line, because this was _his_ plan – and he would see it through to the end. For the first time since meeting him, Kallus saw passed the exterior: passed the measured words and careful intellect, behind the cordial tone and careful annunciation to see a being, a person, under the veneer of the Empire. Thrawn had pride. Everyone in the Empire had pride, and that would defeat him just as easily as rebel creativity. It wasn't a perhaps, there was _definitely_ a chance. Kallus turned his attention to the battle with more earnest. The rebels would do something unconventional, Thrawn was right about that, and now he knew Konstantine would most likely take the bait. He wondered what would happen – another prototype ship design? Backup from some hitherto unknown sector? A dusty old strategy no one used anymore? His eyes scanned the field, saw the A-wings and the _Ghost_ , watched the corvettes go down, waiting for the tide to turn as the TIE fighters and star destroyers continued to hammer them, wondering when the change would come.

And then the _Phoenix Home_ , Sato's rumored command ship, started to move to one of the interdictors and its gravity wells. A possible escape? Kallus threw his bruised eyes to Thrawn, saw him engaged in giving other orders, saw Pryce watching the display. Konstanine moved to intercept, breaking formation and unwilling to let the glory of the kill slip by. This was it, something daring was going to happen.

Except it wasn't a ploy or a diversion, nor was it a feint. Kallus could just read the monitors saying escape pods were jettisoning, and he watched as the _Phoenix Home_ suddenly swerved, and rammed into the interdictor, crashing into the gravity wells and blowing up the ship. Horror. Kallus watched in horror as both ships went up in flames, saw the unfathomable loss of life on both sides: three hundred plus imperials and whoever stayed behind to pilot the cruiser-carrier. That was not daring, that was suicide – the rebels had just sacrificed one of their best ships and for _what_...?

"Sir, one rebel ship escaped the blockade."

For _one ship?!_ What were they _thinking_?!

"Konstantine was careless," Thrawn said casually, as if so many people had not just been cut down. "Let's hope he did not undermine my efforts. Press the attack. Force them to ground." And that's exactly what happened. Kallus watched in horror as more cruisers went down, A-wings blowing up left and right as the rebel fleet was forced to retreat. Kallus watched them limp back to the planet, watched the trails of smoke and debris, watched as the rebels cornered themselves. Whatever defenses they had at the base would be pitiful and small – orbital bombardment would wipe them out, and Thrawn had been right all along: he would watch his allies die, one by one, to hammer home the defeat, to hammer home that his own reckless transmission had given away their location. He sagged to one side before a Death Trooper forced him back to his feet, saying something on his encrypted channel. "Our capital ships are in position," Pryce said. "The blockade is secure."

"And the status of the rebel fleet?" Thrawn asked.

"The remaining vessels have fled back to the surface and are taking shelter under a localized shield."

"Hmm," Thrawn said, rubbing his fingers. "Very good. Let's test their mettle. Commence the attack."

Thus began the orbital bombardment. All star destroyers fired all batteries, localized to the rebel base and everything in one kilometer of the location to account for atmospheric trajectory distortion. This was something Kallus had never done before, never had the opportunity for. Even on Garrel, that was a planet inhabited by innocent civilians, he could not just bombard them without consequence... except in part that had been _exactly_ what Thrawn had done on Batonn – Thrawn had outmaneuvered the insurgents, forced them into a corner, and then blown up the mine they were holed up in. This was barbaric. For a full sixty second all Kallus saw was streaks of green flying to the planet, unable to know if they survived, unable to know if they escaped, unable to know who was left, unable to do anything to stop them. It hurt to experience, then,

"They've had enough. Cease fire."

And just like that, it stopped. Kallus let go of the breath he'd been holding while Thrawn made a noise of satisfaction, turning his back to the viewport. "Governor Pryce, you're in command of the fleet while I lead the ground assault." Kallus blinked. Thrawn was leading the ground assault? Of all the—he couldn't help himself, he started to laugh – partly of relief that the orbital bombardment had stopped, partly because he had done that once, on Seelo. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. Not how, not where, but who. He laughed louder, a low, dark chuckle of the inevitability of Thrawn's defeat, and he finally felt secure in knowing that he had a chance. Thrawn turned to him, saw his laughter.

"The plight of your friends amuses you."

It wasn't quite a question, but Kallus replied nevertheless. "I've been in your position before," he said, manic grin on his face, "only to have these rebels pull a victory from certain defeat."

Thrawn's calm exterior gave a hairline crack, that irritated frown from before bleeding onto his lips. "You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these rebels are about to learn."

"Of course, Grand Admiral," Kallus said, giving a perfect mimic of cordiality veiled in contempt. Thrawn left and took the Death Troopers with him, and all Kallus had to do now was wait. Either the escaped ship would return with reinforcements, or something on the ground campaign would defy convention. Either way, the moment would come and Kallus would seize it. He looked at Pryce, demanding some cursory reports on fleet strength after the meager space combat, saw her shift her weight again. For twenty minutes Kallus waited. Then thirty. Then forty. The ground campaign had to first be staged and then started, organizing troops of those numbers was no small feat, but Kallus did not spend his time idle. He mentally started picturing the route he would take. Escape pod was his only option, he had no hope of leaving via the docking bay in the shape he was in, and staff on the pod level would be minimal because of the deployment. There might be hope.

Hope. He shouldn't get his hopes up. Someone had sacrificed themselves just to get one ship out, and Thrawn didn't know the Rebels as well as he thought but he thought _fast_ , and Kallus wasn't sure he could take another blow to his confidence again – if he did he wasn't sure he would recover. He took slow, deep breaths – difficult with his broken ribs, but the throbbing of his leg had abated, he could mostly stand on his own power, and the binders would be easy to remove. If he could get to the pod... he might die out in space but at least he would die free. Like that pilot of the carrier cruiser. It would be a good way to die.

Chatter from the ground campaign did not filter to the bridge, or if it did Pryce didn't have it flooding the speakers of it. Then fighters came out of hyperspace, fanning out and flying straight for the interdictor. "Rebel reinforcements?" Pryce asked.

"Mandalorian, by the look of them," one of the crew said.

"Sabine Wren." The hiss was unmistakable, and Kallus realized she held a grudge for the Specter since Skystrike Academy. "Send fighters to intercept and move our capital ships to reinforce them." Standard procedure for now. The small Mandalorean squad moved immediately to deal with the fighters, their spinning pylons rotating around the chassis to devastating effect. The capitol ships broke formation per Pryce's orders, and the field started to get messy as the Mandaloreans showed their prowess in battle. Kallus watched as they kept near the interdictor and the gravity wells, and he belatedly realized exactly what they were planning to do. His eyes snapped to Pryce – the woman never handled stress well, did not adapt to sudden changes. This was his chance.

"Governor, the enemy fighters have deployed a strike team onto the hull of our Interdictor!"

"Well, repel them! We will not lose to this rabble!" A broad, generic order, without detail or direction, forcing the troopers to interpret on their own. Sloppy. Stormtroopers needed clear directives to carry out, and something vague like that would leave them disorganized, unable to do what was necessary. That was exactly what happened, the forces on the hull only had a smattering of resistance, whoever could break away to follow the order – and the Mandaloreans, far more adept at the art of war, made quick work of those that dared break away from their diversion. Kallus watched Pryce's face twist, her body shifting position and unable to be still. Pressure, Governor, _pressure_ , imagine what it will be like when things get inevitably worse...

"Governor, we have a problem."

"I don't want to hear it! Just... _stop_ them! Nothing gets through!" This was his chance. Kallus put on an easy grin and a confident tone. "Thrawn's not going to be happy with you making a mess of his fleet," he said.

She turned a hateful gaze at him. "Throw this traitor out the airlock," she ordered. And stormtroopers grabbed his arms and escorted him out to a lift – putting him in the back and then _turning their backs to him_ to face the lift door. Only then did Kallus smile. He took a painfully deep breath, his ribs protesting to the rush of air, and shoved one trooper into another before looping his binders around the helmet, holding the trooper in front of him like a shield as the other tried to fire. It hit his shield, and when the trooper fell Kallus angled the fall to the one with the blaster, blocking his view and leaving him space to angle his fists. It cracked against the helmet, followed by a kick to the groin and lifting his fists overhead, _ribs killing him for the move,_ and rushing down, cracking the helmet against the head and sending the trooper down. A follow up kick to both troopers ensured they would be out of commission for the time being, and he found the binder keys and unlocked his cuffs. He rubbed his wrists as the lift door opened. He was on the right level. Perfect. He had no idea how the battle was fairing, but he could dimly hear the cannons start up again, that meant more ships on the field. He had to get to an escape pod.

He found three troopers on his way to the pod level – two shocked to see the traitor escape and the third wondering, "What happened, Agent Kallus? Were you on the interdictor?" Kallus felt guilty for taking him down, but not enough to shy away from escape. If his ribs hurt before they were _killing him_ now, breathing was hard, shallow, as he made his way to the pod and ejected it from the vessel.

Of course, ejecting _into the middle of a battlefield_ was not a smart idea. Escape pods had no weapons, no defenses, nothing but a dozen odd thrusters to control movement. The sounds of battle were dull and distant on the star destroyer, but with just a few thin inches of reinforced metal between him and the vacuum of space he could hear every shot, feel every volley that burned close to his shell of a pod. He would not last long out here, would likely die. He put out a call, used his Fulcrum transmission one last time, let whoever listening know that he was free. The pod rattled and shook, twice he heard something come inches from ramming him and he was certain the burn of whatever engines flew by deteriorated the flimsy hull of the pod. He held himself very still, wondered if he could survive as thrusters struggled to keep him in position, heard something explode only feet from him, felt his pod rock again. Would he live? Could he make up for everything he'd done? … Would he see Zeb again?

Then the distinct sound metal striking metal, the sensation of magnetism – someone had picked him up. He sighed in relief. A hand helped him out of the hatch of the pod, and he stumbled into the new direction of gravity, looking up to see the weathered, white features of Dodonna himself. They were in a cargo bay... the _Ghost_. He nearly cried out in relief. He had survived. _He had survived._ The bay was flooded with people, rebels in different garb and states of dress.

All eyes snapped to his imperial colors. "Fulcrum, right?" Dodonna said, "You're the one that tipped us off to the Lothal factory to begin with. Good work. Hera will want to see you."

Kallus grunted as he fought his way up a ladder, ribs sending spikes of pain every time he lifted an arm above his head, but he was able to follow the general into the cockpit – a place he had wanted to see for years, and saw the crew of the _Ghost_ there: Syndulla flipping switches and following some kind of ship Kallus didn't immediately recognize, Kanan Jarrus in co-pilot's chair and Zeb behind Hera, everyone tense as they broke through the blockade and followed the cruiser into hyperspace.

Everyone sagged in relief. "We made it!" Zeb shouted, fists pumping into the air. "I don't believe it!"

"Ezra, where are we going with this heading?"

" _Mandalorean space, right on the edge of Sabine's territory. We'll dock with you there and figure out our next heading._ "

"Okay. All pilots, check in and let me know you're alive. Once we're out of hyperspace we dock and rotate out pilots. If you have to refuel tell me now so we can figure out how to make that work."

Kanan Jarrus turned around, blind gaze turned down slightly, but his head turned invariably to Kallus and Dodonna. "Welcome aboard," he said simply.

"Kallus! You're alive! _Karapast_ , thank the Ashla!"

The Lasat grabbed him with two meaty hands and lifted him up to the air, pressing against his ribs and making Kallus grunt as fire _exploded_ through his core. Zeb let him go almost immediately and it was everything he could do to land on his feet. He crossed his arms tightly over his ribs, breathing shallow and struggling to get it under control. " _Karabast_ , what did they do to you?"

Jarrus stood. "One thing at a time. We need to assess how much we've salvaged and figure out if any of it was fuel. Once we dock there's most likely going to be a meeting with Sabine's family, we'll want some answers ready for them."

"Agreed," Dodonna said, his voice slightly thin. "Let's get my people out of the cargo bay."

It wasn't long before Kallus and the other survivors were lined up in the central hall of the _Ghost_ , giving names and unit numbers for a quick census and listing any injuries. Eyes were on Kallus again, he kept his gaze to the floor and held his ribs. Inside an hour they came out of hyperspace and both docking ports were being used to take Mandeloreans on board. Kallus saw them stream in, armor and helmets and jetpacks, as did Bridger.

"Kanan! Kanan I made it! We destroyed an interdictor!"

"Kanan! Zeb!"

"Sabine! You're back!"

"Zeb, this is my brother Tristan, Tristan, this is Zeb. Let me introduce you to Hera…"

"Chopper! We have a lot of guests, you need to be on your best behavior! No, you do _not_ get to tell them where to go! C-One Ten-P!"

"Captain, perhaps it would be best if I take over. I am after all, very useful when it comes to inventory, unlike Chopper."

"Captain Syndulla, it's an honor to meet you. Sabine's told me a lot about you."

"Hera, I want to ask a favor."

"Of course, Sabine, let's go to the common area. AP-Five, you and Chopper help General Dodonna calculate the hyperspace jumps - no Chopper, you're not doing this yourself."

The familiarity washed over Kallus, he closed his eyes and listened to the words, watched the crew of the _Ghost_ act with familiarity, intimacy. Family. This crew was family - more than an efficient team, more than a gathering of close friends, they were family. They disappeared to their different assignments and Kallus marveled at how they worked around each other, talked to each other. Nothing like this existed in the Empire, and his eyes burned to realize this was his new place.

He wondered if he deserved it.

Some time later, Kanan entered the hallway, weaving through the leftover dredges of Phoenix Group, gaze milky but set on the cockpit.

"Kanan," Kallus said. The Jedi stopped, looked to the ISB agent. For a moment the words died on his lips, Kallus lost what he was trying to say. "...Thank you," he said softly, "For taking me in."

A hand reached out and touched his shoulder. "Thank you," Kanan replied, "for risking... _everything_." The empathy in his voice was profound, and Kallus was slightly breathless as the Jedi moved on to the cockpit.

Some point after that he sat on the floor, exhaustion overtaking him. He remembered little after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, the season finale's done! Heck, season 3's done, whee!
> 
> This is played entirely straight. There are probably other novelizations or tags to the s3 finale - enough happened certainly - but this all weaves into Kallus and the purpose of the fic. He really has been through hell and back for the Rebels, but now he (mostly) has time to absorb everything that's happened to him. Fans of our other works can take the time to read "Moment to Breath" - it was written last year when s3 ended but a lot of his thoughts then feed into this and visa versa. And then we get to the new content proper:
> 
> Next chapter: Kallus meets Fulcrum.


	5. Chapter 5

After the first hyperspace jump there had been a very long meeting on the bridge of the _Ghost_ , only crew, Tristan Wren, Fenn Rau, and General Dodonna. After, the Mandeloreans all made their farewells, and Jarrus and Bridger went with them.

"Kanan," Captain Syndulla said.

"I know, I know, you're going to miss me."

"Yes, you play a valuable role here, but I wanted to make sure you understood something before you left…"

"But you just got here," Zeb was saying.

"I know Zeb, but don't worry. I _promise_ not to paint that picture of you crushing Kallus. At least not yet…"

They all departed, leaving Zeb, Hera, the droids, and the remainder of Dodonna's crew. Zeb's ears were down, and Captain Syndulla watched the Mandalorean trajectory long after the hyperspace jump. Chopper reassured her in binary, but she shook her head and wordlessly put in the coordinates for the next jump.

Yavin IV was… nothing like Kallus had expected. The forest moon of the red planet was rich with life and clean, unpolluted air. An ancient stepped pyramid - a temple of some kind, lifted off out of the trees, and in front of it was a small landing pad, filled with the Y-wings from Reclam Station, A-wings, and… what were those ships called?

"Admiring the X-Wings, Kallus?" Syndulla asked.

"X-wings… Yes, I remember hearing the Empire was going to employ them, but the TIE fighters were cheaper. I wasn't aware they went into production."

"From the same crazy Mon Calamari who made that B-wing," Zeb said, easy grin on his face as Syndulla set the _Ghost_ down.

A certain redheaded Senator was on the landing pad, waiting for everyone to disembark. As the ramp lowered, Kallus could just make out the expression on the Senator Mothma's face, and the haggard lines only grew as they approached.

"You are the last to arrive," Mothma said. "I'm so very sorry."

"No," Dodonna said. "Don't blame yourself. We lost a lot, the last thing we need is more guilt."

"No," the redhead said, "This was hubris. I left the Senate and thought…"

"We've all been down this road before, Senator," Captain Syndulla said. "We'll be down it again before it's all over. We'll bounce back. We always do."

That did not cause the dark circles under her eyes to recede, but Senator Mothma smiled to hear the encouragement, placed a hand on Syndulla's shoulder and touched Dodonna's arm. "We'll have to debrief, but first I want medical to check on all of you. Captain Andor scavenged some Two-One-B medical droids and that has made things go somewhat smoother." He eyes finally caught Kallus, his imperial colors. "Who is this?" she asked carefully.

Zeb puffed up to his full height. "This here is Agent Kallus, Senator. You might know him better as Fulcrum."

Blue eyes widened fractionally, and Kallus struggled to pull out of his hunch that favored his ribs. His transmission had lead Thrawn to Atollon, had precipitated the utter devastation of the Rebel Fleet, and the tired look on Mon Mothma's eyes. He would take her judgment silently, without contention.

And, instead, she walked forward and took his hand in hers. "Welcome, Agent Fulcrum," she said, using the titles of both of his lives, acknowledging he had lived two lives. "Without you we would have fewer numbers, fewer chances, and fewer victories than we've afforded."

Kindness. She had offered him kindness. It cut through him more than judgement or vengeance, and he fought to keep his face neutral, to hide the grimace. "With all due respect, Senator, it was my failure that lead to this loss. I accept full responsibility for the casualties."

The moment hung in the air, Dodonna and the the dredges of his crew staring, Zeb watching in bald incredulity as Captain Syndulla blinked once, twice.

"As General Dodonna said," the Senator replied, "the last thing we need right now it more guilt. We'll talk more when your wounds have been treated. You'll also want to be inoculated - there are many poisonous insects and snakes here, we won't want you to fall to fever before you've been fully evaluated. Come, I'll show you where medical is."

The Senator lead everyone into the Temple, where more ships were docked in the dark shadows before going underground. Their supplies barely passed muster of an outcamp - four 2-1B medical droids, three humans and a Rhodian, and a long, long string of beds filled with the six pilots outside of the _Ghost_ who had survived the battle.

"... Three gunships, six corvettes, three frigates, two transports, and Commander Sato's cruiser-carrier. It took us years to gather even that much - Senator Mothma, are these the last of the survivors?"

"Yes, doctor. Phoenix Group will have to merge with ours, we'll need someone to rearrange the assignments. There's also two others, Master Jarrus and Commander Bridger, out on assignment."

"That's a lot of inoculations, I don't know if we have enough…"

"We should have enough material to synthesize more," Mothma assured, "For now, treat the injured."

"As you wish, Senator." Then the human saw Kallus, and his face lost color.

"Allow me to introduce you," Mothma said quickly. "This is Agent Fulcrum, a fellow survivor of the battle."

"... I see."

The examination was quick and blessedly professional. The doctors got to work, and Kallus learned he had more than three broken ribs and a swollen eye and a split lip. Bruises were everywhere, including his femur that had once been broken - the hematoma was a black mess on his thigh.

"Doctor," he said softly as he put on a medical gown. "If you've not enough medication. See that the others get it first."

A slow blink. "Pardon? Don't tell me you want a fever?"

"Not particularly," Kallus admitted, touching his bandaged ribs. "But it's no less than I deserve."

There was no noise of commitment, only a long, slow blink before moving on. Kallus stretched out on his cot and sank into it, closing his eyes to the overhead lights and wishing he could erase the haggard look on the senator who had been so brave in her declaration of war.

* * *

For the first two days nothing happened. Zeb visited him, and he slept to the sounds of the survivors, moaning between pain and grief. Kallus got up and walked around - not the base, he doubted he would have clearance for that before being debriefed - but around the medical bay. A KX droid stood guard, most likely for him. The third day he found a swelling on the back of his hand, and informed the 2-1B droids that some kind of insect had bitten him.

The next three days… he didn't overly remember, and rather thought that was for the best. When he finally came to, he had vague memories of Ondoran, and Lasan, and Geonosis with the looming shadow of Thrawn holding a jammer in front of him. He felt weak, but rested, and when he finally craned his head up to look around he saw himself in a different bed, with the KX droid looking over him, visual receptors staring at him.

"Do you always cry when you are near death?" it asked.

… What?

"... I certainly hope not," Kallus replied, his voice a rough, unrecognizable mess.

"The captain said it was your own fault for refusing inoculation."

Kallus sat up, saw his limbs were shaking with the effort, and sank back to the bed. "I didn't refuse," he corrected, "I simply prioritized."

"Cassian said you would say that. He said you are a fool."

Hm. "... aren't we all?" he asked.

"I am not a fool," the droid said, "I have a vastly superior processor than any organic beings."

"You sound like AP-5."

"We've met. I like him. I don't know if I like you, yet."

Kallus drifted off again.

Mon Mothma was there when he next woke, sitting at his cot and reading something on a flimsy. The KX droid was there, too, as was another human - dark hair, dark mustache, hooded eyes leaning against another cot with crossed arms.

"Hello," the Senator said gently, looking up. "I was just reading the report of Kay-Tu," she gestured towards the KX droid. "He's quite detailed."

Kallus said nothing, simply waited. The unnamed man shifted his weight, still eyeing him with hooded eyes.

"May I call you Alexsandr?"

"As you wish, Senator."

The redhead smiled. "Phoenix Group has a lot to say about you, of course. Captain Syndulla always gives thorough reports, and Commander Bridger is always a colorful read. It was Captain Orellios, however, who provided the most insight. There is also your record at ISB - I doubt we have everything but Kay-Tu was able to point out your very first field assignment on Ondor and your participation in the Lasan campaign."

Kallus looked away at those two particular names, the old shame too great to hide from the Senator. Mothma touched his hand, drawing his gaze to the red dot that had once been a bug bite. He didn't dare look up.

"Tell me in your own words," she asked, "How you came to join the Rebellion."

It was unlike any interrogation he had ever experienced - there was no beatings, no threats, no abuse. Only gently asked questions, quietly insistent on answers, never forcing him to talk but never taking silence as an answer. It was… it was almost like a debriefing. Reliving the Jedi's interrogation, listening to Bridger's transmission, inspired by Captain Syndulla's new fighter, beset by Zeb's kindness; it was exhausting to go over, but he held nothing back, knew raw honesty was his only hope. He gave a detailed, (mostly) clinical account of the sabaac game he played with Thrawn - the sleepless nights, the unhindered panic when Bridger came to extract him, meetings with Pryce and Konstantine…

… And his utter failure to realize Thrawn had an idiot's array up this sleeve.

"He used me," he admitted. His hands were shaking, small tremors that traveled up his elbows and threatened to shudder his lungs. "He played me perfectly, and I lead the Empire right to you."

Senator Mothma, up to that point, had been a simple listener, asking questions and pulling out answers, but only now did she offer editorial. "That is perhaps true from a certain point of view. But as I see it, a good man heard his allies were in trouble and rushed to give them warning - even though it risked his position and meant his near termination. That is the kind of spark this rebellion needs, and we're glad to have you."

The acceptance was… something filled Kallus' chest and his eyes blurred - he ducked his face to the side.

"Cassian, should I tell the Senator he is crying?"

_He was going to kill that droid._ Kallus _burned_ but the Senator touched his hand again, and when he was in enough control to look he saw a soft smile.

"There is more we'll have to talk about," Mothma said gently, "But that can wait. For now, you'll be assigned to Captain Andor," she gesture to the silent man, "and his partner Kaytu-Esso. He will inform you of protocols and assess you while we find a place for you. You'll be in charge of personnel in the meantime - merging two Rebel detachments won't be easy, and we'll have to resupply as well. Between you three I'm sure we can be successful."

The Senator got up, nodding her head before taking her flimsy and leaving, the KX droid K-2SO and the silent man leaning on the other cot.

K-2, of course, spoke. "Cassian still says you are a fool."

Kallus shook his head. "Do you do all the talking for 'Cassian'?" he asked.

"Only when he doesn't want to let people know what he said. I think it's very funny, that he always wants me to tell him everything but he tells others very little."

"That's enough, Kay-Tu."

Kallus stiffened to hear the voice - even without the distortion of a transmission, he recognized the accent, realized just who was in the room with him. "Fulcrum," he said, turning quickly to take in more features: thick, straight hair, hooded eyes that were a deep brown, defensive posture, respectable distance, lines under the eyes. "You're a long way from Fest."

"And you're a long way from Coruscant."

A pause drew out, the two of them staring at each other, assessing each other, trying to outthink each other.

"Should I kill him?" K-2 asked.

Fulcrum rolled his eyes, finally straightening up. "No," he ordered, stepping up and offering a hand. "Cassian Andor."

"Alexsandr Kallus."

"I know."

"I know you know."

Then, from the droid: "And I know that you know and that you know."

...

"You Rebels seem rather fond of letting droids develop personalities," Kallus said carefully.

"You're a Rebel, now, too, you know."

Kallus looked down at his hands, at his medical gown and the mostly empty medical bay. Somehow, even after everything that happened, he didn't feel like much of a Rebel. The ISB in him was well and truly dead, but he wasn't sure he had earned the title, didn't feel comfortable with the association yet. Several locks of hair fell into his face, oily from the three-day fever. Well, he couldn't exactly go back, nor did he particularly want to. Forward it was.

"Where do we start?"

* * *

Senator Mothma may have been sympathetic and benevolent, but Cassian Andor, aka Joreth Sward, was _not_. As soon as Kallus could walk he made the former ISB agent take a limited tour of the base. He didn't go to command, nor communications, and explained protocols in absurdly brief terms and expected Kallus to just remember them. Knowing that Fulcrum – Andor – took simple conversations and turned them into tests Kallus let the snubs slide and memorized the protocols as best he could. Andor would not make this easy, but Kallus accepted the challenge and did his best. K-2SO was almost always with them, giving color commentary with his simple, honest, and somehow always sarcastic sentences.

He was interviewed by General Draven but told nothing about his rank and command with the Rebels. That interview had been less gentle than Senator Mothma, digging deeper and significantly more invasive to his life.

Kallus didn't see the _Ghost_ in the hangar, wondered if they were out on assignment so soon.

Zeb...

He shook his head.

Commissary food was little more than ration bars, no one stayed longer than necessary – everyone had multiple jobs, and there were always at least a dozen people flitting to and fro from meeting to assignment to drill.

Andor put Kallus through combat training and stamina training – the latter as a result of his fever and the former to not-subtly get an assessment of his combat prowess. Kallus hid nothing, floored several of the Rebels – _Force_ so many of them were _children_ – and offered to teach several of them about close-quarters combat.

Wedge Antilles signed up almost before Kallus finished speaking, and several of the others balked.

"But he's an Imp! A Bucket!"

Wedge shrugged his shoulders. "He's also the guy who helped me and Hobbie escape Star Stryke."

_That_ turned several heads, and shortly after that Senator Mothma held a meeting on the tarmac where she could formally introduce Kallus to the Rebels. Everyone sat on crates or the ground, huddled together and pointing as Kallus ran a hand through his hair. There was no product to slick it back, and stray hairs constantly swept into his face. He needed a haircut.

Mothma outlined everything he had done as Fulcrum, listing every tip and target and life he had directly or indirectly saved, letting the entire base know the mettle of his character. Several people were much more welcoming after that.

"Do they like you because you did those things? Or do they like you because the senator said you won't turn on them?" K-2 asked.

"That's not up for me to say," Kallus said, eying the ever reticent Andor. "I hope over time they like me simply for being me."

"That's impossible," K-2 replied. "You did the same things Cassian does, and he said he's unlikable. He had to reprogram me to get me to like him."

"Kay-Tu, that's enough. You talk to much."

But Kallus realized just why Andor was so hard on him, and pursed his lips. "You know," he said slowly, "I never did thank you."

Andor looked up. "For what?"

"For what you did. For what you said. For your advice, 'from one Fulcrum to another.' You told me how to stay alive, cautioned me about the decisions I would have to make. You walked me through creating a patsy. Lyste... He often ate with me in the commissary, and would seek me out at meetings to sit next to. He was a good man but he was an Empire man – much like I was. He wanted to climb the ladder. He had no imagination but he didn't care about the people on Lothal. That was you, too," Kallus added.

Andor was staring at him now, closed mouth like he was to almost everything, but K-2 was silent as well, which was telling.

" 'That's how the Empire gets you.' That's what you said. You showed me in the span of, what, four questions just how and why the Empire is broken: They don't see us as people. We do. You do. I know how easy it would have been to just tell command that an ISB Agent had found your frequency and either simply change it or given me false information like Thrawn did. Instead you decided to trust me. Not completely, but enough to take a risk on me. Not anyone would do that. Thank you."

Andor didn't say anything, just worked his jaw slightly.

K-2, meanwhile: "I think that's the first time someone has thanked him."

Kallus smiled, uncertain if the statement was really true or not. "If I'm the first, I hope I won't be the last."

* * *

Andor didn't suddenly start talking to Kallus, didn't talk about his life or share stories about him and K-2, but he did allow Kallus into communications and command, and he sat in on some of the meetings Senator Mothma requested.

The real test, however, was when Andor finally allowed him to do his assignment: go over personnel. He shoved a pile of datapads at him while going through his own, K-2 standing over them. Kallus frowned at first, asking the droid, "Will you be helping us?"

"I don't like reading."

… Okay. Kallus went through the files, reading names and dates and biographies, looking for inconsistencies, comparing field reports, building personalities in his mind's eye. He made a few notes on flimsy, grouping names together and writing shorthand. Andor didn't write at all, only looked up after two hours and said, "What do you think?"

Kallus handed over his lists. "These beings," he said, "are going to be a problem for every female pilot on the base. This group is lying about something – if I had access to my old database I could find their discrepancies easier, and this man will crack under the smallest pressure."

Andor raised an eyebrow. "The discrepancies are obvious, so's this guy. What about female pilots?"

"Look at their reports when a female is in charge on the field versus when a male is. Read how they address either gender, and look at the female reports of their attitude. Men find them amiable and charismatic, females find them undermining their authority, belittling, or disobedient. If their public files could be accessed, there is no doubt that several of them would be on some kind of registry."

"The Empire has lists on those kinds of things?"

"Yes."

Andor looked up. "And nothing was ever done?"

Kallus shrugged. "That was not my department – I only had access to those records in case I needed leverage against an insurgent or suspected an officer of misconduct. I don't know how else they were used."

Andor stood up. "I'll let the senators know. Kay, keep an eye on him." He left almost immediately.

"I think you just impressed him."

Kallus looked over to the reprogrammed KX droid. "What makes you say that?"

"You just made him do something that wasn't a direct order. That almost never happens."

"I don't understand."

"Well, I don't either. Cassian doesn't always make sense. But you can't blame him, he is organic."

Kallus was called in to talk with Senator Mothma – and an R2 unit projecting a hologram of... Senator Organa? - and explain his rationale many, many, _many_ times before he and Andor were ushered out. They went back to work while they waited, Kallus making more lists and Andor asking more questions, taking more sincere interest in what Kallus had to say. Had he just passed some kind of test? It was hard to tell with the man from Fest. He asked K-2 to get them lunch – the first time the KX droid left the two alone – and they worked for the rest of the day before the Senators called them back.

Mothma's eyes softened, but she did not smile. The haggard lines were back, and her voice was carefully controlled. "You have our thanks, Alexsandr," she said.

Organa's hologram said, " _Agreed. We've just spent the day interviewing several members of the base, and your observations have proven quite correct._ "

"Something will be done about this," Mothma said. "It is vital that no one feels privilege over another in a galaxy where the Empire will so readily exert its privilege over every living being in the galaxy. We cannot accept every vagabond that pledge their allegiance to our cause; we must practice the rules we hope to enact when the Empire has fallen, and that includes disciplining those who cannot accept all members of the galaxy because of gender or race or distinction. Bringing this matter to our attention has helped us fix a problem before it became a problem."

" _At least, before it became too big of a problem,_ " Organa said. " _You continue to impress, Kallus. Cassian says good things about you, and that's very hard to do._ "

"Let us know of anything else you find."

* * *

A week later Zeb wandered in, and Kallus learned that the Rebel Alliance worked with Saw Garrera. That went about as poorly as could be expected, but when all was said and done Andor came up and told him to get a blaster.

"What?"

"Mission," Andor said. "Just us and Kay-Tu. Sneak in, plant an access point, get out."

They trusted him, then. Kallus swelled in pride and went to AP-5 for equipment. The inventory droid was dry as ever, full of observations about what kind of blasters they had available, but Kallus found one with the right weight and a decent recoil. It wasn't the same as his modified bo-rifle, but that was a loss he would have to learn to live with.

K-2 was waiting for them in a U-wing, Andor took the pilot seat and cleared his flight plan with the tower.

"Do we brief?" Kallus asked.

"The mission is need-to-know," Andor said. "You need to know we're going to Corellia."

"Corellia? A core world? That's a week's travel in hyperspace."

Andor shrugged his shoulders.

… Right. "What kind of facility are we infiltrating?"

"A data hub. We get Kay-Tu there, plant a data spike, and have access to their files whenever we need them."

"That's... specific terminology," Kallus said, " 'whenever we need them.' That implies the data isn't time sensitive or mission-critical, which suggests this isn't the type of mission to be 'need-to-know'."

"That's what I told Cassian," K-2 added. "He didn't agree with me."

"And yet, here we are."

The journey was quiet – neither Kallus nor Andor were talkers, and K-2 knew when to be silent. Meals were ration bars again – Kallus was starting to hate the foodstuff, remembered the thinly flavored soup made by Jarrus and the subtle flavor. Andor did, halfway through the flight, pull up a schematic of the building and the surrounding area for the three to make their plans. Kallus offered his suggestions, and Andor studied the map. A core planet meant strong imperial presence but significantly lax security – usually. They docked at the space port and moved through the streets.

K-2 made, as always, an obvious statement. "Has anyone else noticed there are no other KX droids here?"

"Yes," Kallus and Andor said simultaneously.

"Could be a problem," Andor added.

"No, it won't," Kallus replied. "All it does is change the story. Kay-Tu, would you be kind enough to look... affected?"

"Affected by what?"

"Multiple programming errors."

"I don't see how that will be helpful."

"I do," Andor replied. "Do it, Kay."

As K-2SO started to alter its walking algorithms and switch to speaking binary with auditory distortion. Kallus and Andor let the droid walk around on his own for a while as they broke into a supply depot. It had been upwards of a month since the escape, and as Kallus put on the old uniform and slicked back his hair he felt... he felt... his stomach turned and he nearly thought he wouldn't be able to do this. He pulled the breastplate over his head and nearly lost his most recent ration bar. He held a hand to his mouth, closing his eyes and counting, not expecting such a visceral reaction.

"Kallus?"

He sucked in a shaky breath, finished fastening the armor and held his hands behind his back. Protocol. Compartmentalize. Mission. Breath... breathe...

_Agent_ Kallus opened his eyes and saw Andor in an ISB uniform, without the breastplate and the comparatively low rank of commandant. The Fest native cleaned up well, but his code cylinders were backwards. Kallus reached out to fix the mistake – Andor backing up before Kallus paused to give the other man time to get used to the intrusion of personal space.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and his voice was shaking almost as much as his insides. He coughed and tried again. "Sorry," he repeated. "Let us proceed, shall we?"

Andor was eying him – like when he had first woken up from his fever on Yavin – hooded lids and inscrutable face.

Without comment they marched out to the square, Kallus giving small corrections that Andor picked up smoothly. By the time they made it to the building they were infiltrating, Kay-Tu was waving his arms around and cursing in binary – words that could have _only_ come from Captain Syndulla's C-1 droid. A squad of storm troopers were circling around the security droid, and Kallus was back on familiar ground.

"What's going on here?" he asked, pitching his voice to carry. The troopers saw the uniform, saw the rank, and immediately fell in line.

"Sir! This droid is causing a disturbance."

Kallus raised a brow. "And have you contacted the nearest building with a maintenance sector?"

"Uh..."

Kallus locked eyes with Kay-Tu. "Identification, droid."

Kay-Tu babbled something out in binary, and Andor "translated" it to a series of numbers and letters.

"Last known location?"

Kay-Tu gave an extended opinion of what he was doing for this mission, and Andor pursed his lips before saying, "He was on a transport that suffered a malfunction. His memory banks are partly destroyed and he says he needs to get to his assignment on Lothal."

"Well," Kallus said, stepping up to the droid despite the troopers all stiffening and motioning he not do that, "It seems you're a long way from where you're supposed to be, droid. Come with me and we'll fix your memory." Then he turned a calculated eye to the squad. "Do none of you speak binary?" he asked.

The squad all shook their heads.

"Take this a lesson then, this entire affair could have been avoided. If you checked your logs at base you would have seen our department looking for a rogue security droid. If you knew binary you would have known to send this droid to some kind of maintenance. If you memorized protocol you would have known to notify someone of irregularities like this." The squad shuffled on its feet, a sign of shame, and Kallus decided to drive the point home: "If you fail to do your duties again," he said, tilting his chin and narrowing his eyes, "I shall have to report you to my superiors."

Every single squad member stood to perfect attention, realizing Kallus was showing them the Imperial form of mercy. They moved quickly to disperse the crowd, trying to chase away the citizens who had witnessed such a public dressing down of storm troopers, and as Andor slowly guided the babbling Kay-Tu towards the building objective Kallus watched the squad for several seconds, part of his mind still cataloguing, still acting like an intelligence officer. He waited two extra breaths, then joined his "subordinate" in getting the security droid inside. The reception desk had seen the display outside and directed them to maintenance before either Kallus or Andor could even make a demand. Andor stayed close to Kay-Tu, Kallus thanking the Rhodian and moving to the lift.

"Don't break character," Kallus said between breaths, "Security monitor above us."

"Then how do we get to the communication hub?"

"There's rarely cameras in maintenance - the droids self monitor there."

They exited to maintenance, a repurposed protocol droid asking the nature of the maintenance. Kallus logged it dutifully and disappeared into the depths of the floor. Droids were everywhere with different kinds of malfunctions, some simply charging at their stations. Kay-Tu was happy to stop acting, straightening his gate and switching to Basic almost immediately.

"That was humiliating," the KX droid said. "Don't ask me to do that again."

"With luck we won't have to," Kallus replied.

"You might not, but I know Cassian well. He remembers every plan that works, especially the ones where I have to do something stupid."

"It wasn't stupid if we get what we need, Kay, let's go."

From here it was Kay-Tu's show. He found an access hatch and the three disappeared first into an access shaft, up a ladder, and then into the communications wing. Only MSE droids were here, rows and rows of servers with database after database. Kallus wondered again about the objective of the mission, watching Andor sweep the halls with his blaster as his counterpart looked for a terminal. Kay-Tu found what he wanted and docked with the port, standing there for several minutes. Kallus pulled a stray hand from his hair, trying to keep the slicked back look without any product in his hair. He _really_ needed a haircut.

"You were right Cassian," Kay-Tu said. "The registries are extensive. We might need a bigger spike."

"The size doesn't matter, Kay-Tu," Andor said, coming back from a sweep. "It's the strength of the transmission. Are you done or not?"

"Oh, I've been done for quite a while. I'm trying to see if your name is here or not."

The noise Andor made was unlike anything Kallus ever heard before, and he watched the man from Fest grab at the droid's elbow. "Come on, let's go."

Andor lead them back to the access hatch and up to the roof, constantly checking for security as they slowly hopped across alleys for several blocks before going back down to street level, where he and Kallus shed their disguises and shifted to their original attire. Kallus more than breathed a sigh or relief to be out of the Imperial gray. Andor was watching him again with his hooded eyes, but he pulled out a datapad, powering it up and moving through menus. "It works," he said. "We'll try again in orbit, and then in hyperspace. Come on."

It was a smooth trip back to the ship and then up in orbit. Andor checked his datapad to register the spike constantly, but the feedback always came back positive. The Fulcrum easily navigated through the major space lanes and soon they were back in hyperspace, on their way back to Yavin.

"... That was good work back there," Andor said.

Kallus frowned at first, the reticent man almost never one to initiate conversations. "Thank you," he said carefully.

"I saw…" Andor frowned, working his jaw, trying to find the right words. "I saw what you went through, putting that uniform on again."

Kallus shifted in his seat, remembering.

"You didn't hesitate," Andor said, "You didn't break, you didn't run. Others would. Others have."

"I'm nothing special."

And, at last, Andor grinned. "None of us are," he said. "We're not grand Senators or mighty Jedi. Men like us, we're killers, saboteurs, spies, betrayers. We're not lovable scoundrels, we just do what needs to be done. We're the inglorious bastards that Mothma and Organa will deny we have. You are part of that now."

He handed over the datapad, and Kallus finally saw the information they had spiked to gain access to. His eyes doubled in size.

"The offense registries…"

Andor nodded. "Your first official assignment as a member of Rebel Intelligence," he said, "is to go over our personnel records and see what kind of offenders we're bedding with. Then you get to reorganize the units so members aren't 'agitated.' That's what Mothma said, but you know what she means."

"So that everyone is safe," Kallus replied. "We're not so big as to turn away people who join, but we will be principled in how we deal with them. Like Saw Garrera."

"Yes."

"... Thank you, Captain Andor."

"Cassian. Call me Cassian."

"Call me Alexsandr, if you wish," Kallus replied, "though I hate that name."

"And I hate Andor."

The pair laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we can talk a little more freely: Eeee, Cassian! Hi! The whole impetus of this fic was the idea that Kallus and Cassian, both in intelligence, might know each other. There's another idea, too, that spawns from that, but that's the conclusion of the fic so we'll hold on that a bit longer.
> 
> Like Kallus says, even being just a nameless, faceless voice, Cassian did a lot of things to keep Kallus alive - even the unwanted extraction by Ezra, and Kallus will now spend the rest of the fic trying to repay that kindness. Cassian... is a bit of a tough nut to crack, but the key is he's been worn down. There isn't much of him left by the time he gets to Rogue One, and not the same way as Saw Gerrera. He knows exactly what kind of man he is and while he'll do his duty he won't go out of his way unless inspired - which makes Kallus an obvious exception. Cassian is the kind of person who never really knows how good he is, and has trouble sharing.
> 
> And then there's K-2. He is freakin' hilarious to write, and so easy, too! We had to be careful he didn't steal every scene he was in.
> 
> We're not done yet, of course, but season 4 needs to wander in and out for a bit. Next chapter: the return of Kanan and Ezra. And more Cassian and K-2.


	6. Chapter 6

When they got back from hyperspace Zeb was still on base. Kallus explained his mission and his assignment, and the Lasat offered to cut his hair for him. For hands so big they were nimble and gentle, most of his length was kept but his front tresses were trimmed down. Now they still fell in his face but not in his eyes. It was as they were finishing up that Zeb got a transmission that the Jedi were returning, with Sabine.

"Oh, that's great," Zeb said, excited face turning to Kallus. "Haven't had the family together in a couple of months! Once Hera comes back from her supply run we'll all do something together - play sabaac, or make fun of Ezra when he's training, or put the hunk of metal Chopper on the chopping block and forget to take him off!" His exuberance was infectious and Kallus found himself smiling as Zeb walked him back to his post. He waved the Lasat off, caught by how different his life was. Somehow, when he wasn't looking, he had developed a camaraderie with the people here: the _Ghost_ of course, but also Cassian, and Kay-Tu, and Mothma as much as she could allow, the droids, even young Wedge Antilles who was off with Captain Syndulla.

He had always enjoyed his work, but there was something different here, on Yavin. He enjoyed the people, too. There was a fullness in his life that he hadn't even realized he'd missed, hadn't realized he'd never _had_ with the Empire. He sat down to go over the reports, saw Cassian walking towards him with Kay-Tu, and even with the dour look of the man from Fest he could only smile in greeting.

"Senator Mothma wants to see you," Cassian said.

"Do you know why?"

"No."

Kallus stood and walked to the command center, watching the bustle of activity. Mothma was with Organa's hologram, along with General Dodonna. Something big then.

"Alexsandr," Mothma said by way of greeting. "There is something you need to know about-"

There was a clang of an alarm, a holo of the outside sprung up to see smoke in the air.

"Syndulla's ships!"

"Get medical on standby! Scramble fighters in case they were followed! _Get a fire crew out there_!"

Kallus eyed the holo - everyone did - as Syndulla's crew dumped fuel and prepared for a rough landing. On the ground was the distinct figure of Zeb, running of course towards the danger, and there was the rest of the crew: Bridger, Jarrus, Chopper, Lady Wren, the clone Captain Rex. "Alexsandr," Mothma said, "Go down and have them report to me. They'll want to hear of this as well, it directly affects what just happened."

"Yes, ma'am," Kallus said, turning just as he saw the fighters drag to a stop. Another happy landing courtesy of Captain Syndulla. He moved quickly, squinting as he entered the sun of the outside and smelled the fumes of fuel and engine oil.

"I've seen worse landings," Jarrus was saying.

"Kanan? You're all here! And Sabine, you came back!" Syndulla's voice was a mix of surprise and delight. Zeb, it appeared, was not the only happy crew member to see the family back together. Kallus suppressed a grin, couldn't quite turn off a wry comment that a few months ago would have been ruthlessly suppressed.

Kallus interjected: "A reunion. How nice." He smiled, allowed the moment for a breath, before letting it go. "But as Commander Bridger suggests, it's time to get to work. Mon Mothma requests your presence."

"Do they know what happened?" Syndulla asked.

"I suspect they do," Kallus replied, "given they asked me to get you as soon as it was obvious your landing would be safe. Senator Organa and General Dodonna are there, suggesting a larger problem than just a failed supply run."

"I see our luck hasn't changed," Bridger said sullenly.

"I don't know," Jarrus said, "We're all still alive. I'd say our luck is pretty good."

"I want to know how they got there so fast," Syndulla said as they moved into the old temple. "We were completely undetected until that one squad found us. I've never seen the Empire scramble assistance so quickly from so far away. It was a miracle we were able to find an opening to hyperspace! If Wedge and the others hadn't done so well…"

"Easy," Jarrus said, touching Syndulla's shoulder with the intimacy of one who had done this many, many times. "The important thing is you got out and there's no casualties. You win by surviving and I've never met anyone better at surviving. You'll get through this, too."

"Jedi wisdom?" Kallus asked.

"Nah, just experience. You settling in okay, Kallus?"

"Haircut's new," Bridger observed.

"I've had a few assignments, same as Captain Syndulla. Mostly I've been assigning personnel and monitoring Rebel tips." He saw Cassian leaning against a wall, watching - he understood now that the other Fulcrum was jealous, felt unworthy. He waved and offered him to join, but the captain turned and moved down another hallway. Pity.

Inside Mothma and the others were still there.

"Captain," the redhead said, "I commend your bravery in protecting your fellow pilots."

Syndulla marched right in, all business. "I just want to know what went wrong out there."

"As do I," Mothma replied. "Senator Organa may be able to shed some light on that for us."

The hologram said, " _My sources in the Senate confirm that the Empire has established a new communications relay in the Jalindi system._ " He reached down and hit a button, the command center showing a hologram of a massive satellite dish. " _It greatly expands their command and control throughout the surrounding sectors, and enabled them to respond much more quickly to your incursion._ "

Dodonna sighed. "I hate to admit it, but it appears Gerrera's rumors were true."

Kallus stiffened, realizing why he had been called before Syndulla's arrival.

"Hmm, how does Saw's ragtag group have better intel than we do?" the clone asked.

Kallus was more than happy to answer: "Because Gerrera has absolutely no qualms about how he acquires it." His hand pressed against the command table for emphasis, his contempt dripping over every word. Zeb's face hardened, having seen the scars Gerrera's group had left him.

"Well, if he gets results…" Bridger said, leaving the sentence hanging. Kallus quickly turned away before his emotions responded. To his relief Senator Mothma, who had _also_ seen those scars, interceded.

" _We_ do not mistreat our prisoners," she said firmly - and perhaps it was shallow but Kallus enjoyed watching Bridger pause, think, and back down.

"Now, the question is," Dodonna said, "what course of action do we take? We can't allow this relay to hamper our missions."

"... Perhaps there is another way," Kallus said, frowning as he studied the satellite. He moved around the table, closer to the control panel and activated the highlighter. "If we could somehow tap into this relay, we could use it to monitor Imperial fleet movements and adjust our own operations to avoid them." Similar to the data spike in the registries, they would have a steam of information and prevent further tragedies. It would also give them ways to analyze weak spots of the Empire.

Mothma turned to the _Ghost_ crew. "Can it be done?"

Hera was determined. "My crew and I have done plenty of jobs just like it."

"Are you confident your ship can get in and out undetected?" Oh, Dodonna, how little you knew...

Kallus watched Syndulla subtly rile, eyes hardening. "We don't call it the _Ghost_ for nothing," she said simply.

Mothma nodded. "You are authorized to proceed."

That was as much a dismissal as they would get, and Kallus moved to link back up with Zeb. He heard Bridger as the command table was shut down.

"Wait. That's it? But what about Lothal?"

"Poor kid," Zeb said as they left. "Don't blame him for being anxious. It's his home. We all want what's best for home."

"Tapping into the relay will help," Kallus offered. "If we can out-maneuver the Empire, we can get to Lothal faster."

"Yeah," Zeb replied, dubious, "You know that. I know that. But Ezra won't. For a Jedi he's pretty hands on, responds to what he can see. This doesn't connect to home the way going there or planning a strike would. That kid couldn't see the bigger picture if it jumped up and rammed into him like a purgill."

"I assume Master Jarrus is correcting him of that?"

Zeb outright laughed. "Who, Kanan? Ha! That guy barely lives from one moment to the next."

"Maybe the old me," a new voice said, startling them both. In the shadows was Jarrus, walking into the light with the confidence of a man with sight. "But I've learned to see things differently lately. The bigger picture is always harder to accept, let alone see, but sometimes a detail of that picture can give you solace."

"Eugh, Kanan, you know I don't like it when you get all mystic on me."

"Sorry," Jarrus said; there was a softness to his voice, a thoughtfulness, a profundity. His mask turned infinitesimally to Kallus. "There's someone back there," he said, pointing where he had come. "Soft footsteps, with a droid. He didn't say anything but he's definitely waiting for you."

"Cassian?" Kallus frowned, turned to Zeb. "We'll talk more later, this might be about that spike I told you about."

Zeb nodded. "Okay, see you later."

The hall was dark but around a corner there was light, and Cassian was indeed there with K-2SO. "Did you need me?" he asked.

Cassian was staring at him, face inscrutable. "... Don't get too close to them," he said finally.

"What?"

"That crew. Don't get close to them."

Kallus blinked. "Why?"

"Because they'll all get themselves killed," Cassian said, words painfully blunt. "They think they can take the moral high ground, win on principle. You and I both know that's not true, it's going to take something much darker than that. If you get too attached, you'll break down worse than when you did with Lyste. We can't afford that."

Kallus stared, eyes glancing to the silent Kay-Tu, tried to process what had just been told.

"No."

"No?"

"No," Kallus repeated. "Those principles are what convinced me to join the Rebellion. Those principles made them take the time to rescue me. Those principles might not win the day-to-day war, but it will summon the like-minded to our cause, and build a coalition that _does_ use those principles to our advantage."

"But they're all going to die."

"Perhaps," Kallus acknowledged. "But I am a better man for having known them."

Cassian stared at him, jaw working, eyes hooded and face inscrutable. "There's no point getting attached to someone when they're dead."

Kallus raised an eyebrow. "There's no point in living if you can't enjoy the people around you."

Fulcrum said nothing, his face didn't change; he simply turned on his heel and left, marching out into the crowds.

"That's usually where Cassian says you are a fool," Kay-Tu offered, before following its counterpart.

… Someday, Kallus hoped.

* * *

That night Kallus ate outside, listening to the wilds as the people bustled around him even at the late hour. Cassian… there was a pain there. Kallus didn't know from where, yet, but it was obvious the war had worn the Fulcrum down. Way, way, down. Intelligence officers knew what their duties were, even when Kallus was still a thought policeman - he understood the value of having a sector of the Rebellion that could do whatever it took to get results, but he also understood that there came a point where a line had to be drawn. Setting up Lyste… he'd been backed into a corner but the moment he'd decided to betray the Empire the decision had been made for him. Kallus could marvel at being attached to people, the feeling of camaraderie, but he also had to have just enough distance to still function when the inevitable happened. Cassian wasn't wrong there - Kanan Jarrus alone was wanted by bounty hunters, zealots, the Empire's military, and any sellout that knew he was a Jedi and willing to earn quick coin or bargain some other life for his. Kallus knew about Mustafar's reputation if not exactly what was done there, and he knew that when the inevitable happened the _Ghost_ would be devastated.

Protecting himself from that was pragmatic, strategic.

But it was not _living_.

That was Cassian's problem. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped living, only doing as ordered, pulling away and hiding as much of himself as possible so the hurt would be a little less. Kallus wouldn't begrudge him that but he hoped the man saw just what he was missing. Even someone as put together as Mon Mothma - so careful in how she presented herself - dared to live when she made that speech to the Senate, forfeiting her life and joining the Rebellion.

" _Members of the Alliance to restore the Republic…_ " Kallus looked up, saw a giant holographic head of… _Saw Gerrera_. His whole body stiffened, freezing mid-bite. " _Your losses today stemmed from your leaders' cowardice, their unwillingness to take decisive action against the Empire. All across the galaxy, your people suffer while the leaders of this…"_ the hologram gave an empty, contemptuous chuckle, "' _Rebellion' refuse to act._ "

"Should I shut it down?" someone whispered. Kallus turned, saw Mothma walking up to the hologram.

"No," she replied. "I want to speak to him."

" _Madam Senator, I'm honored._ "

"What is your business here?"

" _You ignored my warning about the Jalindi relay and paid the price. Now you have confirmation, yet still you refuse to destroy it._ "

How did he know that? A mole? Only the _Ghost_ crew and high command was there. Had someone hacked Organa's transmission? A list of possibilities started itemizing in Kallus' mind, he grabbed a 'pad to write them down, the site of Gerrera's massive head looming over him making his actions quick, jerky. He needed to have AP-5 run a scan on transmission encryptions, purge cached data, examine the damn droid projecting the holo-

"You target civilians!" Kallus snapped to attention, shocked to hear Mothma with a raised voice. "Kill those who surrender, break _every_ rule of engagement! If we _degrade_ ourselves to the Empire's level, what will we become?"

" _There she is! That's the leader the Rebellion needs! Where is that fire, that passion, when your people need it most? I hope, Senator, after you've lost, and the Empire reigns over the galaxy unopposed, you will find some comfort in the knowledge that you fought according to the 'rules.'_ "

"That's enough."

Someone moved to deactivate the droid. " _What are you afraid of, Senator? The truth?_ " The droid powered down.

"Return to your duties," Mothma said softly, everyone following suit. Kallus watched as the senator's eyes lingered on the droid, reaching out and touching it's dome. She took a great sigh, and covered her mouth against the silent noise before putting herself back together.

Kallus was there before she took another step. "Senator," he said softly. "If it means anything… Your following the rules of engagement was what convinced me to come here."

Her eyes were haggard. "Thank you, Alexsandr."

"Senator… there is a difference between bending and breaking the rules. Doing what one has to to survive, that is one thing. Being a deliberate provocateur is something else. You are not that."

"... I know," she said softly, and Kallus wondered if she let other people see her this tired. "I wonder if others do."

To that he smiled. "If they didn't… they do now."

When he turned to escort her back inside, he saw out of his peripheral vision Ezra Bridger. Standing. Watching.

* * *

Jalindi was not spiked, but rather blown up because of Gerrera. There were not enough curses in all the languages Kallus knew to cover how he felt about an objective he had created be so thoroughly usurped by _Saw kriffing Gerrera_. There was also the added insult to injury to see how Gerrera had piggy backed Senator Organa's signals - almost exactly like Kallus had on Lothal. He spent the better part of a standard week scrubbing data and trying to task people half his age to re-encrypt transmission frequencies.

Syndulla came back with a report on Gerrera's interference, and then disappeared almost as quickly to pick up an errant Bridger and Wren.

The report had to do with kyber crystals, kidnapped laborers who volunteered to join the Rebellion, terrorism that only Gerrera and his extremists could conceive. Kallus was part of the debriefing, unable to comprehend how kyber crystals could "sing" before Bridger finished off and gave another, neutral, assessing gaze to him. Wren picked up after him and Dodonna took copious notes as he was wont to do. After the debrief Bridger walked right up to him, stared at him.

"... Yes?"

"... I owe you an apology," Bridger said.

Kallus blinked, not quiet expecting the sentence, uncertain what to do with it. All he could manage was a curious: "For what?"

"I don't know… judging you, I guess."

Kallus waited.

"Look, when we first learned you were Fulcrum… I didn't trust you. You had done all of these really, really terrible things on Lothal. On my home, and I didn't want you to be a good guy. Even when I was sent to pick you up, I was kind of hoping you would slip up and show your hand or something."

Kallus offered a flat gaze. "I noticed."

Bridger winced. "But then you found a way to stay incognito, and you tried to warn us about Atollon, and they almost killed you for it. I still didn't trust you, really, but I started to trust you. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but I started thinking about people, and how bad people can do good things and how good people can do bad things. I… did a lot of things after what happened to Kanan, but I'm still trying to be a good person. Saw… he _thinks_ he's a good guy but his priorities are so… It's like he's obsessed and he'll do anything to prove to everyone that he's right. I almost turned into that and… I don't know, I guess I was doing it again, with you. I didn't want to put a spike in Jalindi, I wanted to blow it up because the Empire almost killed Hera. I was happy when Saw did but… I don't think it was for the same reason, and I don't think it was for the right reason."

His words ran out, his lips pursed, but Bridger held Kallus' eyes, didn't blink, didn't look away. His nostrils flared, and he tried again.

"I was judging you," he said. "I wanted to be right that you were playing a long game, and I wanted the Jalindi mission to fail. That was a mistake. And I'm sorry."

Kallus… stared. "Why are you telling me all of this?" he asked. This was an internal struggle for Bridger - he had grown, obviously, but it was utterly unnecessary to tell Kallus about this little revelation - so why did he?

"... Because it's the right thing to do," Bridger said. "You tried to help Lothal as much as I'm trying to help Lothal. We should be working together."

Warmth.

Warmth bloomed in Kallus, his ears turning bright red against his will as it had when Zeb had been to happy to see him after his rescue. Camaraderie. Acceptance. Companionship.

… Cassian should be seeing this.

"... Thank you," Kallus said simply, stiff and formal lest his true feelings show.

Bridger - Ezra - nodded, turned and walked off. Jarrus was there and joined his Padawan. Kallus turned and saw Cassian, watching from the corner of the command center.

* * *

For two months, the _Ghost_ stayed on Yavin, doing small supply runs or patrols, listening to the weekly briefings and sometimes part of smaller meetings and assignment delegations. Kallus spent a lot of time with Zeb and the ever competent droids, Cassian sometimes joining and sometimes not. Kallus worked closely with Senator Mothma, the redhead efficient and ever hopeful for positive turns that almost never came. He watched Cassian disappear for missions – sometimes he knew the objective and sometimes he didn't. Once Cassian returned with a bandaged arm and a distinct limp. He didn't talk about it and Kay-Tu only said they had nearly died. Kallus kept the other Fulcrum company as he recovered, extending the friendship that so many had offered him and waiting for Cassian to take it.

He watched Jarrus, Kanan, meditate outside amongst all the wildlife; Syndulla lead teams and train squads; Wren check over weapon stocks with AP-5 or calling home for an update.

And he watched Ezra get more and more unsettled.

… And then came the report. Ryder Azadi's communication, and the dread news it brought. He showed it to Mothma, who watched with dark eyes.

"You were stationed at Lothal, were you not?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What is your assessment?"

"That we need a team down there as fast as possible. I volunteer."

Mothma looked at him then, eyes pulling away from the hologram and taking in Kallus almost as if for the first time. She blinked, slowly, absorbing what she saw. "I did not realize you felt so strongly, Alexsandr."

"I have a great many mistakes on that planet I need to fix," Kallus replied. "I want to do my part to end Thrawn's role there."

Mothma fingered the command table, Dodonna watching across it, weighing her options. "Your insight it valuable," she said, "and your current assignment will keep you here for quite a while. I can't let you go, but rest assured, I know who I can send who will make certain to do his very best."

Two days later he was on the _Ghost_ for the first time since Atollon, walking the decks and staring at all the little details. Cassian had given his inscrutable face on hearing of the mission – he didn't say anything, but his opinion on getting close to others was more than obvious. Captain Rex was there, too, happy to explain Lady Wren's paintings or offering to say which cabinet in the galley to pull from when hungry. Blind Kanan was still the cook, specializing in thin but subtle soups – the upgrade from ration bars was _heavenly_.

Around him the crew was informal, relaxed – well as relaxed as one could be with an op looming over their heads. Ezra was clearly in charge, and he scrupulously went over details and rechecked calculations. The day before exiting hyperspace he detailed his plan to the crew: meet with someone named Cikatro Vizago, get smuggled onto Lothal, link up with Ryder Azadi. The others didn't question the names, but Kallus did. Vizago was a name he knew from his time on Lothal, though he couldn't remember where. He spent the night looking up the Devaronian and his impressive catalogue of offenses.

He went to Syndulla and Jarrus first, explaining his concerns.

"Don't worry about it," Jarrus said, blind gaze locked on nothing. "We've worked with him a lot in the past. Ever since we came to Lothal, actually..."

"Your concern is noted but not warranted," Syndulla added. "We know how to handle him. Besides, this is Ezra's mission. If you have concerns you should take it up with him."

Kallus wasn't expecting to be dismissed out of hand, let alone chastised for going around Bridger. That morning he searched the _Ghost_ , moving through the quarters to the common area to the galley and finding nothing. Jarrus was meditating in his quarters, Zeb was glaring at the cargo on the landing leading to the nose gun, but Wren and Ezra were nowhere to be seen.

Back in the cockpit he saw Bridger and Wren watching Vizago's ship, the _Broken Horn_. He got right to the point.

"This friend of yours, Cikatro Vizago, is a criminal. He can't be trusted."

"Yeah," Wren waved off as she exited to quarters, "we used to say that about you."

"Yeah," Bridger agreed, "and besides, Vizago has a legitimate business on Lothal now."

Kallus raised an eyebrow. "And who told you that?"

"Hondo."

Hondo Onaka, the Weequay that had nearly gotten Kallus and a light cruiser _killed_ trying to fly through a _star cluster_?

Syndulla apparently had a similar opinion, moaning, "Ezra..."

Bridger, cheeky bastard, was nonplused. "Trust me. Vizago'll get us through the Empire's blockade. He needs the money." He left to greet his contact.

Syndulla went through the process of docking with the _Broken Horn_ after a terse conversation with Vizago over the comms, ordering the clone Rex to go to the cargo bay and help with docking. Alone now, Syndulla leaned back and breathed heavily through her nose before turning to face Kallus. "She's a good ship," she said, "Gotten us through a lot of tight spots. It's been home almost as soon as I left Ryloth." She caressed the dashboard, eyes very far away, before she focused again on Kallus. "I don't know how long we'll be gone, but I don't want my home handled irresponsibly, do you understand?"

"Of course," Kallus said. Rex came up from the ladder.

"You're in command of the _Ghost_ now. Take care of her." She caressed the dash again as she stood. "I _will_ want her back."

Kallus shifted as she left, the weight of what was happening settling on his shoulders as he sat in the pilot seat. Stars, the _pilot_ seat. He looked up at the overhead dials and readouts, amazed that he was at the controls. He turned to look at Rex. "To think," he said, "all the times I chased this ship, all the trouble it gave me..." He leaned back, getting comfortable in the seat, the _pilot_ seat. "And now, I'm in command of it."

The clone captain openly snorted. "You? Oh, no, no, no. She was talking to _me_."

… What? "Why would she give the ship to you? I've commanded _star destroyers_."

Rex gave a sly grin. "Well, I'd say you'd answered your own question then."

… Oh.

The thought burned, but he conceded the point. Some things couldn't be shaken off in a few months time, and to confess this ship as a home he couldn't begrudge Syndulla the right to be choosy over who flew it. He moved to the co-pilot seat.

"Gotta say," Rex said as he sat down. "You're the first Imperial I ever met that could admit a mistake like that."

"I'm not an Imperial anymore."

Rex smiled again. "Well, maybe that's why."

* * *

Almost as soon as he was back on base Kay-Tu found him, the tall security droid's optical receptors glancing back where he had come before saying, "Cassian is 'dreaming.' "

Kallus blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Cassian is 'dreaming.' Actually, he is hallucinating, but he has told me not to say that."

Hallucinating? "Take me to him," Kallus ordered.

"I came here to do that," Kay-Tu replied, turning and taking lumbering steps, long strides across the hanger and forcing Kallus to half jog to keep up. The pair went up to quarters and Kay-Tu navigated the maze of cots and sleep-couches, finding a dark, secluded corner where Cassian Andor lay, eyes wide open, face pale as a ghost, shaking.

"Does this happen often?" Kallus asked, pulling off a glove to check the man's temperature.

Kay-Tu grabbed his hand. "That is a bad idea, he will hit you if you do that. And define often. This usually happens after he has to assassinate someone."

Oh, Cassian, you poor man.

Kallus sat carefully on the cot, easing himself closer and giving the man a chance to get used to the presence, carefully touching safer places – elbows, hips, then finally shoulder and just left his hand there. Kallus gave a small squeeze, hoping to break through the flashback. "How long will he be like this?" he asked softly.

"Time duration ranges from twenty minutes to twenty hours. We are currently in hour three."

"And no one's thought to help him?" Kallus asked, incredulous.

"He's never asked for help since he reprogrammed me."

Kallus looked up. "But you can see that he needs help."

"Cassian has always needed help," Kay-Tu replied, "but that's why he has me."

"Us," Kallus corrected. "That's why he has us. Contact one of the Two-One-B medical droids and ask for a seratonin reuptake inhibitor. Also, get me my personnel files."

Kay-Tu followed the orders and, while Cassian was in his flashback, Kallus looked through his records. He eyed the fitness and medical reports, looking over listed medications with a narrower focus, and compiled a small list of names, which he cross-referenced with mission assignments – almost all of them redacted, even with his intelligence security clearance. General Draven's name came up many times, usually as the assigning officer. Kallus had met the man only once, during one of his introductory interviews, and he realized just what the man's role in the Rebellion was: the head of the intelligence division. He asked Kay-Tu what kind of medical and psychological support the intelligence officers had, and the security droid didn't know. If anything was offered Cassian never took it, but he wasn't the only one to "dream," and more than a few members of the division kept flasks at their hips.

The long and short of it was that the Rebellion was underserved – however organized they appeared on the Empire's side they were constantly scraping for supplies, fuel, food, and medication. Even members who had training for mental disturbances were tasked for many other jobs because there just wasn't enough to go around, and Kallus realized that his work with the personnel files were going to be much more involved than he initially thought. He sent out a message to Senator Mothma to be certain he had the right to rearrange personnel however he saw fit. If she affirmed that message he was going to do much, _much_ more than shift squads around to be more accommodating.

By hour eight he was lost in names and titles and medical reports, getting his head around the magnitude of what he was doing and wondering if he should rope in AP-5 or another droid to help him through this. His hand was still on Cassian's shoulder, and when the weight shifted he stopped what he was doing and looked over to the other Fulcrum.

Cassian was blinking slowly, a low moan vibrating through his body.

"Kay..."

"I'm here, Cassian."

"She was just a child... I killed her mother..."

"I know."

"How will I ever..."

And then he realized a hand was on his shoulder, and he looked over to see Kallus there. His eyes were haunted, raw; his inscrutable face open to read and the unhindered emotion morphed to horror. He bolted out of his cot so fast he swayed on his feet, nearly falling into Kay-Tu, stumbling into standing.

Kallus held himself very still, knew not to make sudden movements.

"Kay-Tu said you were injured," he said slowly.

Cassian processed that even more slowly, horror morphing to confusion and then finally to anger. He turned to his counterpart. "What were you _thinking?_ " he demanded.

"I was thinking that I was tired of watching you, and thought company would be less boring."

Cassian turned to Kallus. "I'm not injured," he said. "You can see that."

"Physically, yes," Kallus said, standing. "You are uninjured physically."

Silence from Cassian. The Fulcrum stared hard at Kallus, lips pressed together and breathing heavily through his nose.

"General Draven's entire mission command is redacted, but it doesn't take much to understand just what he's in charge of. Why didn't you tell me he was our reporting commander?"

Cassian's face was livid, now; he was shaking for reasons beyond whatever terrible flashback he had just exited. He didn't answer, however, just looked away. Kallus sighed. The man knew how smart he was, had _recruited_ him, but Fulcrum held true to the advice he was trying to impart to the former ISB agent: don't get too close, protect oneself from the inevitable pain of loss. Even now, furious that he had been caught in a weakness and indignant that Kallus was informing him directly and indirectly of how much he knew, Cassian couldn't let himself open up enough to admit that he was tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the killing, tired of the darkness.

Cassian pressed into Kay-Tu, still weak from his flashback and still not talking.

Kallus sighed, standing up and realizing he couldn't give Cassian what he needed. Not now. If he couldn't let himself be vulnerable, he couldn't accept the help Kallus was going to organize.

* * *

Cassian avoided him for three days, did not appear at any of the regular places they ran into each other. Kallus took the time to compose his report on the mental fitness of members of the organization and make his arguments on the need for more than just physical treatment, listing names who at least tangentially had the experience to try and help and suggested pairing one or two with General Draven to help in maintaining higher health standards for the intelligence division.

" _In a war of principles we are not in a position to acknowledge that such a division not only exists but is essential for our continued survival, but that does not mean we should sweep them under the rug and ignore the damage their deeds risk to a being's psyche; and we cannot afford to burn out every operative we have as they continue to walk into the darkest missions we have and come back more battered, more disillusioned, more desperate to believe they are what they are for the greater good. We must heal the injuries that cannot be seen and grant appreciation for their work, express gratitude for the lives they save and regret for the lives they take, so that they can at worst maintain whatever fractured mind they have and at best return to them a sense of fulfillment in their work instead of an ideal empty of all but rhetoric._ "

Kallus stared at the report, reading it over and over again, hoping his bias was not obvious.

He bit into his ration bar. Sighing, he hit send.

"Kallus."

His gaze snapped up, seeing Cassian standing at his table. The former ISB agent snapped to his feet. "Cassian," he said quickly. "I'm sorry to have intruded on something so private-"

"No," he said, "Kay-Tu told me. Don't worry about it. Sit."

The two men sat, and Kallus realized the security droid was nowhere to be seen.

"Look," Cassian said. A pause drew out, long and increasingly awkward as the man from Fest worked his mouth, tried to find the words. "I fight for the Rebellion. I believe in what I'm doing. I will do whatever it takes to end this war."

"That was never in question," Kallus said.

"And I'm perfectly _capable_ of doing whatever it takes to win this war."

"Cassian, that was never in question either," Kallus replied, leaning forward. "You, of all people, _deserve_ to get medical treatment when you are injured. You have done more for this Rebellion than anyone else. You told me you've been fighting since you were six, you ordered an extraction for me even when I didn't want one, you create missions to dive into Corellia to gain access to Imperial registry files just because it will make the job here easier – I'm certain if I dived deep enough I will see hundreds of decisions like that over the course of your life. You think you're fine because you can walk, but you are wounded in a place no one can see."

" _Kallus_ ," Cassian interrupted.

"No, you need to hear this: as safe as it is to keep people at a distance, the day will come when you find someone who crosses all those boundaries. Without even looking or thinking your eyes will be drawn to them in a way you don't understand, and there will be a warmth inside of you that you can't write off or put away, and you will realize that you want to _live_. Not just survive, but _live_."

Zeb had done that for Kallus. Kallus couldn't do that for Cassian, but hope was the one thing that was prevalent on this base: small, quick to snuff out but just as quick to regrow. Kallus put his faith in hope, and let Cassian know that even he could find solace in his work.

There was silence again, but softer this time, more comfortable. Cassian ate his ration bar and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassian is a tough nut to crack. Not for writing, that's pretty easy, but Kallus isn't the person to break through Cassian's shell, and that's hard on him. He knows what Cassian needs - so does K2 - but Cassian won't let them help him. Like Kallus says, Cassian has to want to live, and we all know when that decision happens :P It was important to make that distinction in this chapter, as well as note that Kallus has a life outside the Ghost crew; by now he has his own network of friends and isn't hanging on Zeb for his emotional development. Honestly, the chapter kind of speaks for itself.
> 
> Next chapter. There's a series finale to write about, isn't there...


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks later Syndulla returned from Lothal, a flight recorder in her arms and a serious look on her face. Kallus and Cassian were part of the debriefing - Kallus because he already had tertiary knowledge of the TIE Defender and Cassian for his dirth of contacts.

Mothma was beside herself to realize how fast the ship was, how far it could travel and the output readings of its shields as well as its offensive capabilities: proton torpedoes, _six_ laser cannons. Dodonna was grim faced and Organa worried his hands systems away in hologram form. "If these ships manage to be mass produced we will have no hope of fighting."

"That was why I came back, Senator," Syndulla said. "To ask you to okay an assault on Lothal, to destroy the production factories and maybe free that planet from the Empire's control."

"What choice do we have?" Dodonna said, running a hand through his thick beard. "We don't have the frigates for a siege, it will have to be a small, calculated strike team. Teams, actually, one on the ground has to handle ground support while the strike team figures out how to get past that blockade. How many star destroyers are there?"

"With all due respect, General, the number's don't matter," Syndulla said, lekku swaying with her head. "If you give me pilots, I can get them through that blockade. Ezra and Kanan will handle the ground forces with Azadi's rebels and we can coordinate as necessary."

"You are granted permission," Mothma said. "We'll post the mission and see how many fighters we can assemble."

In less than forty-eight hours twenty-four people volunteered - enough for a squad of X-wings to protect a squad of Y-wing bombers. Small - for a planetary blockade it was utterly _tiny_ , but that would make them hard to target if they could burst passed the star destroyers before the TIE fighters were launched. Kallus liaised with Syndulla, letting her know protocols and offering suggestions on what Thrawn might do once he saw the attack. Plans were made, submitted, and approved, and Kallus worked the comm station personally as Syndulla tried to contact the crew of the _Ghost_.

It took the better part of a day to punch through and connect with the Jedi - Lady Wren answered first and Syndulla visibly sighed in relief.

"Happy to hear from you guys," she said, smiling. "And good timing, rebel command has authorized the attack. Fighters are being fueled and bombers loaded."

Bridger: " _The attack? It's happening?_ "

"We're launching our assault on the next rotation," Syndulla explained. "I told Mon Mothma you'll coordinate the ground assault."

" _You can count on us!_ "

"Good, we don't have a lot of time. This is what I need you to do…"

* * *

Everyone waited for word. They tracked the fighters up through hyperspace, knew they exited hyperspace, and just… waited. They had thirty-six hours on the outside to fulfill the mission. Thirty-six hours to account for contingencies, unexpected snags, _Thrawn_. Thirty-six hours to report the mission a success.

Forty-eight hours came and went.

Seventy-two hours came and went.

Eighty hours later Captain Hera Syndulla arrived.

"The mission was a success," she said. Gone was the calm, collected confidence; gone was the level, self-assured voice. "The fuel depot was… was destroyed and the resulting… explosion… did significant damage to the factories and the surrounding areas. Power has been cut off and production is now at a standstill. It will be another five years before the factories are rebuilt and production can begin again."

"Wonderful news!" Dodonna said, slapping the lip of the command table.

Cassian and Kallus shared a look, knowing there was significantly more to the story given Syndulla's shaken up frame.

Mothma knew it, too. She reached out, touched Syndulla's elbow. "What else?" she asked gently.

Syndulla blinked, face tired and drawn, pale to the point of yellow. "We… there were casualties. Over half the squad was shot down and we lost all the X- and Y-wings. We also lost…" Her entire face changed, screwing up into an intense look of pain, and Kallus realized it a split second before she actually said it. "We lost Kanan Jarrus."

Silence swept over command.

Oh _Hera_ …

Captain Rex rapidly had to sit down, as did others, and Kallus could only stare, blinking rapidly as a hundred different memories of the Jedi flit across his mind - the Kessel Spice Mines, smuggler dens, the Grand Inquisitor's interrogation, the report of the escape, seeing his blindness for the first time, watching him walk without sight, the color of his lightsaber, that one overwhelming act of kindness on the _Ghost_ after Atollon… His stomach twisted and he quickly closed his mouth against his bodily reaction.

Mothma closed her eyes while Dodonna lowered his head.

And then, out of the shadows, Senator Organa – not the hologram, the actual Senator, came out and gave Hera a soft, comforting embrace. Hera almost leaned into it, Kallus could see her eyes, but she held herself straight and did not react.

"A pyre," Dodonna said. "We need to make a pyre. I remember Jedi cremated themselves."

Hera lost what little color she had, swayed on her feet but somehow managed to stay standing. Organa kept a hand at her back.

"We can create a suitable send off later," Mothma said. "The factories have been destroyed, we need to get word out to our surrounding forces, a bit of good news as they arrive here for our first Alliance meeting."

"Ma'am," General Draven started to say, but the redhead stopped him with a look.

"With all due respect," Hera said, voice low, almost monotone, exhausted. "Our mission on Lothal isn't over yet. The Empire still occupies the system."

"I understand, General Syndulla," Mothma said, "But the immediate threat has been removed, and as you well know, there are several other immediate threats that require our attention."

The council moved almost immediately to other topics, but Kallus was watching Hera, saw her eyes at the dismissal, saw her slowly turn out of Organa's supporting hand and leave the command center.

He followed immediately, Cassian as his heels.

"Hera!" he called, but she didn't answer, moved with wobbly steps to the lift. Kallus almost didn't make it, had to cram his way through the doors to get in. Cassian squeezed in behind him. "Hera," he said again, "I'm so sorry."

She looked up at him, and her composed face was broken almost beyond repair, she opened her mouth to say something but instead bent over in half and started retching. Stars above! Kallus grabbed the Twi'lek, groping for her lekku to keep them behind her head and clean. Her entire body shuddered in his arms, and he looked up to see Cassian on his comm, demanding a medical droid to their lift. There was a blur of bodies and orders, someone brought in an old, man-powered stretcher, and Kallus helped carry the woman who had risked her ship and her crew to rescue him to the medical level.

An hour later he was allowed back into the medical wing, Hera was sitting up in her cot and putting on a boot.

"Is that wise?" he asked, his rich baritone carrying across the space.

"I'm fine," Hera said, but her face was still a haggard yellow. "I still have a lot to do."

Kallus was standing in front of her now, silently blocking her way. "Hera," he said, daring to use her first name, "You are allowed to take time to grieve."

Her eyes were fierce, her mouth turned down into an intense frown. "The mission isn't finished," she said.

"What?"

"The mission isn't finished. The factories are destroyed but the Empire is still on the planet. Ezra is still fighting and I'm going to help him. The Alliance isn't going to help, this isn't an Alliance mission: this is personal. For Ezra. For Kanan. Now get out of my way."

Kallus stared at her, seeing her fire and determination, seeing her weakness and loss.

Honestly, the decision was made back when he made his first transmission.

"Let me help you," he said softly, reaching out an touching an elbow.

"We'll both help you," said a new voice, and the pair turned to see Rex, out of his clone armor.

Hera stared, Kallus willing her to see his own conviction, and she smiled.

* * *

The only person he told was Cassian, who actually nodded and gripped his shoulder, wishing him good luck. "I'm on my way, too," he said. "I have a contact who is going to meet me on the Ring of Kafrene. From one Fulcrum to another: try not to die."

"From one Fulcrum to another, don't be afraid to let someone in."

Kallus, former communications officer, sent out a series of coded transmissions on several trajectories. Hera watched, hand touching her shoulder as Rex primed and readied the _Ghost_. They waited one rotation, and then flew to Seelo. Kallus saw the old AT-AT he and the Empire had been forced to abandon had replaced the even older AT-TE the clones had been using to traverse the planet. Inside was a motley collection of beings – he turned his nose to see Hondo Onaka and raised an eyebrow to see a mercenary human with purple eyes until he saw Wren's singular work on a shoulder pad.

Three clones, a mercenary, a pirate and a pig. It wasn't much.

They took off anyway.

Hera was too sick to fly. Kanan's quarters were sacrosanct, no one slept there; but Kallus at night could hear crying when he walked by Hera's quarters, and everyone could hear her sickness in the morning. Rex and Kallus flew the _Ghost_ , and instead of a privilege it was terrible duty. Hera should have been flying this ship, and it was a testament to everyone that she couldn't. Rex tried to talk to her, but she rebuffed all attempts, said only that their primary objective was liberating Lothal. She alternated from holding her rebellious stomach to putting a hand on her shoulder, a forlorn look of expecting a hand that would never be there again.

Two hours before they exited hyperspace Hera stepped into the cockpit, color slightly better, and Rex wordlessly relinquished the helm.

"I want a status update on all systems," she ordered, "Prepare to flush the ion filters right before we exit so we can power down quickly and I want all nonessential functions off. We should be in communication range – Kanan I want you to contact Ezra and-"

She stopped dead, eyes wide as she turned to Kallus in the copilot seat. There were a number of ways to react to the slip, but Kallus chose to be nonchalant. "Sending a signal now," he replied, avoiding eye contact before risking a peripheral glance.

Hera shook herself out of it and turned to the console. "Rex, I want you to monitor for a reply, Kallus, you're in charge of secondary function shut down."

Poor woman, Kallus couldn't imagine what she was going through.

The tension started to build – not the usual pre-op butterflies or the slight flutter of doing something new. There was a weight to the anxiety, the side glances to Hera and the dawning reality of what they were about to do. Kallus curled his toes in his boot, an old trick he learned from Colonel Yularen of all people, to hide nervous energy. He took a deep breath, getting ready for the assault.

Then, Rex, on the comm from deep in the ship: " _I just received a transmission from Chopper. They're under attack._ "

Hera was all business. "Coming up on Lothal. Get ready to power down." Kallus had his hands on the console, and the second Hera exited hyperspace he shut down all systems while Hera powered down engines. Kallus checked the readouts, monitored transmissions... Good.

"I don't think we were detected," he said.

Hera turned behind her. "Hondo, time to join the Rebellion."

"Very good," the Weequay replied. "Move us to these coordinates."

Hera's look said everything. "That's a _hyperspace_ lane, Hondo."

"Technically it is just _outside_ a hyperspace lane," Hondo corrected. "We shall wait there for a cargo ship to arrive."

… What?

… _What?_

"Are you mad?" Kallus demanded. "It'll crash into us!"

The Weequay's answer grin was superciliously _smug_. "This is the risk you take when you are a pirate. You do want to get through the blockade, yes? You want to help Ezra, yes? Then you must listen to Hondo. I have done this many times and have only been struck..." Hondo paused to count, Kallus saw how many fingers were being used, heard the pause draw out... _was he serious?_ "I have done this many times!" Onaka insisted, giving up counting as he moved back to the cabins.

"We're going to die," he whispered.

"Don't worry," Hera said, " _He_ might have crashed but I won't. You're in charge of aft and stern thrusters. We need to be precise. You can do that, right?"

"Yes," Kallus answered. "I most certainly don't want to _crash_."

"Rex, any more word from Chopper?"

" _No_."

"Then get up here. We're gonna need all hands on this."

Kallus relinquished his seat for the old clone, Hera divvying up who was in charge of what and waiting for transmissions from Chopper to update. All they knew was that Ezra's group was under attack – that could mean anything from scouting party ground assault to the entire planetary defense sector. Kallus closed his eyes, tried to picture what Pryce would do without Thrawn there. She would overcompensate to be sure, but she underestimated rebels consistently.

Rex was just as impatient as he: "Listen, we can't just sit here. Who knows how long Ezra can hold out down there?"

"Patience, patience, my friends," the old Weequay said. "The Empire runs shipments all the time." As if on cue, one of Hera's monitor's beeped. "Here comes one now."

The _Ghost shuddered_ as a cargo vessel exited hyperspace only two thousand miles from their position. "You see?" Onaka said with a superior air. "What did I tell you?"

Everyone moved to position – Kallus taking the copilot chair and whistling through the thruster controls as he perceived Rex slide down the ladder to the nose gun and out to the cargo bay. Kallus didn't dare look out the viewport, kept his eyes on the screens and the sensors so he didn't lose his mind over what they were doing. Onaka was talking but Kallus tuned him out, nudging the steering yoke and bursting thrusters at second and half-second intervals.

"Rex, stand by on the magnetic clamp."

" _Sir, yes, sir._ "

"Now!"

There was a soft thud of magnetizing to the cargo bins, and Hera quickly powered up the comms.

" _Cargo freighter EF-75, stand by for code authentication._ "

This was it... now or never... were they detected...?

" _Freighter EF-75, you are cleared to proceed._ "

Kallus let go of the breath he had been holding, ignoring Onaka as the Weequay complimented himself and strode out the cabin. Eugh.

"As soon as we enter the atmosphere, I'll give Ezra the signal," Hera said, and they watched through the view portal, Rex standing by to turn off the mag-clamps and get the _Ghost_ flying. Once they launched, Hera plotted a course to the Rebel camp. "All hands," she said to an open channel. "We're flying into a firefight so we need all hands. Rex, Kallus, Wolfe, Gregor, you have the most ground experience, we'll clear a path and you get to Ezra, he'll give you orders from there. Ketsu, I need you in the co-pilot seat and watching the fuel levels for the stabilizers – we used a lot getting onto that freighter. Hondo, you and Melch take the guns – I assume you both know how to shoot?"

"You _doubt_ me after getting you here?"

"I'll take that is a yes – get in position people! We're almost there!"

Kallus took one last look at the readouts: three patrol transports. That gave him an idea of numbers, and he saw the camp was on a cliff-side cave system – serviceable. He could work with that, and Bridger, Ezra, obviously could as a native to the planet. He pulled out his blaster and moved to the cargo bay. Rex and the clones were already there, adjusting their grips on their blasters and assault rifles.

"Into the fire again, boys!" Rex said.

"It'll be great to fight with a Jedi again!" Gregor said, high pitched voice cracking as he jumped on the balls of his feet.

The battle engaged, Kallus taking a slow deep breath as he heard the guns firing. Comm channels were open, the Ugnaught was squealing over the sound of an explosion and there were tremors on the ship as the deflector shields did their work. Then the bay door opened and it was a _firefight_. Kallus and the clones moved in, eyes taking in the sight – the rebels were pinned against a stack of crates, the stormtroopers had their backs to the caves and were trying to push the rebels off the cliffs. Well, that wouldn't do. Kallus saw Zeb on one side of crates so Kallus moved to the other side, knowing Zeb would hold one flank and settling for holding the other. Gregor took position beside him and it was a flurry of fire, holding off the stormtroopers as Hera drew off the patrol transports.

"Chopper!" Kallus recognized Wren's voice. "Jam their transmissions!"

The audio feedback scrambled all the troopers, clutching their helmets as the comms short circuited. Kallus took out two troopers with the momentary breather, but the next volley of fire sent him ducking behind his crate.

"We're still outnumbered!"

"Not for long! Fall back to the cave!"

Zeb gave cover fire and Kallus kept his blaster hot himself, running and shooting as their measly dozen fighters darted to the cave Ezra pointed to. Ezra covered their rear, green lightsaber ignited and blocking fire and then there was darkness, the total shadows of the cave overwhelming Kallus' contracted pupils. He stumbled twice, a large meaty hand – Zeb – catching him and helping him along.

"Is there an exit here?" he asked. "Is that why we're here?"

"No exit," Zeb replied, "Leastwise none I can explain. Ezra's thinking something else."

"What?"

"Sh!" Ezra hissed, lightsaber off and moving quickly through the darkness. "Everybody, quiet. Breath. Just breathe..."

Kallus could see nothing, did not understand what was going on. Zeb patted his shoulder, and everyone huddled along the walls. Silence fell quickly, but did not last long as Kallus' eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and his ears slowly became hypersensitive to noise. He thought he heard padding, the clicks of claws on stone. What was happening? Heavy panting... an animal... no several animals. What...? What...?

The stormtroopers filed in, lead by a silhouette Kallus didn't immediately recognize, though it moved like a leader. Kallus could just make out Ezra, and the creature asked, "Where is your army now?"

And Ezra ignited his lightsaber.

And there were _wolves_.

Three enormous, white, _wolves_.

Kallus had been on Lothal long enough to have heard the legend of Loth-Wolves, ancient guardians of the planet revered as spirit guides, long thought extinct.

The wolves ran forward, ramming through the stormtroopers and outside. There were screams, blaster fire, the liquid sounds of _biting_ , and Kallus turned to Zeb. "What in the _Seven Correllian Hells_ is going on?"

And damn him, Zeb _smiled_. "You should know by now that when things get weird it's a good sign."

" _Those are Loth-Wolves!_ "

"Yeah. Wanna ride one later?"

" _What?!_ "

More Loth-Wolves appeared from nowhere, dark grey, happy to join the carnage outside, and Ezra ran after them. "Come on! We gotta help them!"

Kallus shook his head, wondering how in _space_ he was going to accept this, but ran out anyway. He saw the _Ghost_ fly by with the two patrol transports on its tail – Hera was clearly buying time before taking the ships down, and the wolves were wreaking _havoc_ on the Imperial forces. Kallus took aim, covering the animals and hoped they understood he was no longer an Imperial.

Kallus moved in, sticking close to Zeb and defending the mouth of the cave in case more wolves came. It was unnecessary, the fight was over in less than a minute.

"I'd drop your weapons if I were you," Zeb offered the stormtroopers, patently smug.

Everyone did.

Ezra moved in, a Loth-Wolf behind him carrying a struggling Governor Pryce.

"No. Don't let it eat me! Please!"

The woman was near hysterical, panting and grunting, quivering as the Loth-Wolf dropped her to the ground. This woman had been arrogant, imperious, abrupt, snide, and petty; to see her cowering now, after everything she had done, after everything Kallus had witnessed her do, filled him with an absurd amount of unearned pride. He looked at Zeb and the two shared a grin, both knowing that comeuppance was something to be savored.

"Why don't you do the honors," Ezra said, offering a pair of binders to Azadi, "governor-to-governor?"

"Ezra, it would be my _pleasure_."

* * *

It took the rest of the day to regroup. Several of the Lothal fighters were injured and needed medical treatment, the _Ghost_ had to land with a stray patrol transport. More crates for supplies, this time ammo after the firefight to reload and furiously clean weapons, as well as a curious moment when Ezra stood with one of the white Loth-Wolves, reaching out and touching its nose, a surreal weight of... something... in the air.

The sun started to set, and the reality of what they had accomplished started to set in.

"You did it," Hera said, color in her face. "Somehow, against all the odds, you actually did it."

Ezra smiled, a soft shy thing. "I couldn't have without you," he said, eyes sweeping over the dozen odd fighters assembled. "All of you."

"So true, my young friend," Onaka said. Kallus immediately tuned him out, eyes darting over to the captured Pryce, wondering what was next.

"I wish it was over, but it's not." Kallus looked back to Ezra. "Not until we chase the Empire from Lothal and show the galaxy that for all their power, they can be defeated."

The boy... was no longer a boy now. Kallus saw for the first time how tall he was, how deep his voice had become. There was a clarity in his eyes and a weight to his words. This was not the wary little loth-rat he had captured and used as bait, this was not the skinny little pickpocket thief who made life difficult for him. This was a man, a weapon cured in battle and loss, who held maturity to his chest and vision to his eyes. He was a leader. At a scant nineteen.

Ezra looked to Kallus. "What is the quickest and easiest way to get all the stormtroopers inside the Dome?"

Kallus blinked, processing the question and mentally running through all the scenarios. He made his suggestions, and the plan started to come together. They would need uniforms – there were plenty of stormtrooper sets to use but the key would be Kallus' – not a grey ISB uniform, he would be recognized, but black. They could get into the dome with Pryce but Kallus had to sell the gambit. Everything hinged on getting to the command center, and it all had to happen before Thrawn returned from Coruscant.

That night Hera cried again, and Ezra wordlessly went into her cabin to comfort her. Zeb and Sabine guarded their privacy, and Kallus happily stayed up in the turret.

He wondered how Cassian was doing on the Ring of Kafrene. In the last few months he was off planet more than he was on base, on some mission for Draven that Kallus wasn't allowed to know about. He knew – suspected – tangentially that it had to do with Saw Garrera, that Cassian had taken special interest in the extremist when he had learned about what happened on Onderon. They could have used a man like him on this mission, and Cassian could have used a mission like this – just covert enough to think he could lend a hand, just inspired enough that Cassian could look up from the darkness and see a real _result_ of his struggle. Maybe that would help his friend. Chase away the flashbacks, the "dreams."

He sighed, looking up at the stars, and hoped Kay-Tu would be enough until he got back to base.

Assuming Thrawn didn't show up.

Assuming he could sell the protocol.

Assuming they could get on the dome...

Kallus shook his head and climbed down out of the turret. Doubt was the last thing he needed. The honor guard was gone, Kallus saw the door to Kanan's quarters were open, saw Ezra meditating on the ottoman, and quickly moved to the cockpit to give the boy, man, commander, space.

The clones were there, sharing old war stories and patting each other on the backs. Kallus climbed down to the nose gun to see Sabine and Ketsu talking quietly. Right, he moved down the hall to the cargo bay, saw Onaka and the Ugnaught Melch, arguing over something. Stars above, he climbed the ladder back to the living quarters, into the common room. Zeb was stretched out on an ancient wooden chair, feet crossed at the ankles as he listened to some kind of music on the holo.

"Missed this station," Zeb said. "Always had the best music – local stations always do. It's not a Lasat step-concert, but it's good."

Kallus listened to the music, distorted slightly from traveling through weather and mountains. He wondered if the distortion was a signal.

"This was how I disguised my transmissions," he said, fingering the holotable. Zeb shifted his massive frame, gave room to Kallus to sit next to him.

"You think this will work?" Zeb asked.

"The concept is sound," Kallus said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "It depends on if I can sell the protocol."

"Heh, you could sell anything."

"I could," Kallus agreed, "But I worked on Lothal for years. They might remember my voice."

Zeb shrugged as if it was nothing. "Pull rank," he said. "ISB is covert isn't it? Don't exactly scream transparent, do they? Make'm think your a superior officer or something."

Superior... Yularen. Azadi. His voice was deep enough, the right pitch... could he do a Core accent? He would have to ask...

"Relax, Kallus," Zeb said, large hand grabbing a shoulder and forcing him to lean back, into Zeb's side. "Enjoy the quiet while it lasts."

The hand stayed on his shoulder, effectively trapping Kallus in a heavily scented cocoon of warmth. A Lasat's body temperature was half a degree warmer than humans, just enough to be noticed, and Kallus flushed to the intimacy of the proximity. He wondered if Zeb knew of his preferences for lovers, but didn't ask for fear of ruining the moment. His muscles loosened, he started to relax.

… "Do you have regrets?" he asked softly.

"Can't be on this ship if you don't have regrets," Zeb answered, squeezing Kallus' shoulder.

"I wonder if the past can be undone... If you can correct the mistakes you've made and ever achieve compensation for the things you've done." Space, why was he saying this? Out loud? To _Zeb_?

"You can't change the past," Zeb said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Kallus' side. "Old Chava would say it all happened for a reason, but I never liked all that Ashla preaching, even when it was from Kanan." Kallus looked up so see ears droop, remembering a fallen friend. "But I do think I got something out of what happened. I would never have met the crew if I was still on Lasan, and I would never have met you."

Kallus looked out across the common room, not really seeing it. Instead he saw Lasan, the campaign, evisceration of an entire planet's population, mass genocide. He saw Lyste, Kanan on the torture table, and so many other things he had done over the years. "Will it be enough?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It'll only be enough when you feel it's enough."

"... and if it's never enough?"

"Then you have us to lean on."

_Us._

There it was again, the acceptance, the warmth, the camaraderie. Kallus leaned into Zeb, taking comfort in what the Lasat offered, and closed his eyes and let himself think... of when things were better, maybe not great but better than this... except it not was better. There was still danger, still the Empire, still fights to engage in, but here, in this moment, was better than anything Kallus had ever experienced. He held it for as long as he dared.

* * *

Kallus found Azadi first thing in the morning and asked about accents and impressions, explained why he needed the Lothal man's help, and Azadi readily agreed. In less than twenty minutes practice Azadi could pass muster, and they moved to collect the governor.

Pryce had all night to think, but she was still spiteful as Kallus pulled her to her feet. They moved up the hill and all she could do was glare. "You disgust me, _traitor_."

"The day I betrayed _your_ Empire, Governor," Kallus answered, "was the day I finally stopped betraying myself."

"You've given up years of service," Pryce said, "a promising career, prestige, for what? To join a band of failures who don't stand a chance."

"I think we do," Ezra said, cutting off one of Kallus' many retorts. "Especially with your help."

Pryce was indignant. "I will never help you."

"Uh," Ezra said, tone light and confident, "yes, you will. It will be your last act as Governor of Lothal. You're finally gonna do the right thing and help free your home world."

"I will do no such thing."

"Okay," Ezra said casually. "If that's your choice."

He whistled, and a Loth-Wolf appeared from _kriffing nowhere_ to growl at the Governor. Kallus and Azadi backed up quickly, letting Ezra teach his lesson.

Pryce capitulated quickly after that.

It was a flurry of activity, Wren and Ezra and Kallus changing, getting binders to set the stage, loading Pryce onto one of the patrol transports. Liftoff went smoothly and Kallus closed his eyes and focused on the mission. Ezra and Wren were talking quietly amongst themselves, Kallus catching a word or two – Bridger was worried about something – but locked himself in his mind, visualizing the plan, remembering every corner of the Dome, every lift, every route, running through a checklist of things he needed to do until Hera signaled their arrival.

Pryce was agog at their destination, but Kallus made sure she transmitted the correct landing codes. Kallus put on his helmet and pulled out his blaster, Pryce was the wild card in this and Kallus was determined to have this go smoothly. He held it to her back and made sure she took the lead as they exited the transport. This was stage one, getting inside. "Nice and easy, Governor," he said softly, pressing the blaster to her back.

It was smooth as silk. Ezra interacted with the troopers in disguise as Zeb discreetly pulled off his binders. He gave a low growl as he launched himself over the soldiers, making a run for the blast door. Blaster fire erupted everywhere and it was a mad dash for cover. Kallus kept his fist locked on Pryce as he followed Ezra to cover, lightsaber deflecting bolts with the grace of his lost master. Pryce tried to get free but he broke no refusal, held her down until the last of the stormtroopers were down.

"Go, go, _go!_ " Hera shouted, and everyone ran into the dome.

Zeb, Onaka, and Melch held back, and Azadi regrouped with Kallus to keep the Governor under wraps. They made it to the command center, Kallus and Azadi staying back and waiting for the signal. In less than thirty seconds there was a flurry of blaster fire, the scent of smoke and carbon scoring, but then silence. Azadi and Kallus shared a nod, and the former ISB agent powered into the command center, moving from one console to the next to transmit the all clear and intruders dead codes to the responding sectors. He powered up communications one by one, making it look like a power surge or a broken relay, sent a small signal for comm stations to report in and ask for errors, all standard procedure.

They would need a good five minutes for all comm stations to report before they could begin the drill. The wait was short but breathtaking as all stations checked in and gave all clear codes. He left Wren to receive the messages and moved to another communication console, priming the PA system and getting ready. He took a breath.

"Ezra," Wren said, "we're ready."

"Kallus, you're up."

This was it. "Attention, all personnel," he said, hearing his voice echo across the Dome, across the city. "Protocol Thirteen is now in effect. Report to your action stations immediately. Repeat. Protocol Thirteen is in effect."

" _Hangar Two-Seven to command. Please confirm lockdown order._ "

"Command center to all units. The order is confirmed."

" _This is highly irregular. Please repeat sector authorization._ " Kallus turned and looked to Azadi, giving a faint nod.

"This is ISB Colonel Yularen. I am executing override code Base Gamma Zero."

" _Imperial security? I was unaware ISB was involved._ "

Kallus held his breath. The override code was valid but now Azadi had to make the sell.

"That is the point of this exercise," the Lothal man said easily.

" _Then... this is a drill?_ "

And, in a fit of brilliance, Azadi turned it around. "Is it? And do you always question the orders of a superior officer?"

" _... Proceeding with Protocol Thirteen immediately._ "

Kallus watched the troops as they reported in. Some had to fly in from quite a distance, it took a while for all the TIE and patrol transports to log in, and more than a few people crowded around his station to watch the numbers swell before Hera shooed them back to their posts. It took the better part of twenty minutes – substandard if this were a real assessment, but it worked. He turned to Ezra. "All units have returned to their duty stations, and the dome is now secure."

"Hera, start the launch cycle. Sabine, set the self-destruct."

Kallus focused on his console, maintaining the protocol signal and giving small, secondary assignments to troopers who reported in: lock down all fighters and turn in all weaponry for inspection. Stand at ready to submit for debriefing. He heard Onaka talking but ignored him in favor of keeping the troopers busy. Hera explained their exit strategy: fly the Dome up and away from the city for self-destruct, get on the _Ghost_ and fly away before final code entry.

Then a shadow fell over their viewport, and Kallus looked up to see a star destroyer.

"You're too late," Pryce said, voice smug.

Kallus recognized the decorative painting on the underside of the ship. His entire body stiffened. "It's Thrawn," he said.

Hera was quick to act. "Shutting down the launch cycle."

"No! We can't just sit here."

Hera turned to the mercenary. "Thrawn is holding position directly overhead. If we launch the dome, we'll crash into his ship and destroy the entire city."

" _Karabast_ ," Zeb cursed, "We're trapped."

"Chopper, put me through." The C-1 droid obeyed Ezra's order and a hologram of the Chiss admiral appeared. Kallus felt sweat on his brow, knew from his time on Yavin that he was having a stress response as his eyes locked on Thrawn.

"Governor Pryce is our prisoner," Ezra said, "and we have complete control of the Imperial Dome, with every trooper, pilot, and officer trapped inside. You failed, Thrawn. Leave Lothal, and we might let your troops out before we blow the dome to pieces."

" _Are you quite finished?_ " Thrawn asked. His measured tone and even words sent chills down Kallus' spine. " _If you truly wish to save Lothal, Commander Bridger, the only term I'll accept is your immediate and unconditional surrender._ "

"Why would I surrender when I hold your entire army prisoner?" Ezra demanded.

" _No, you've simply moved my assets to a safe position so that I can bombard the civilians of your home without incurring Imperial casualties._ "

…

Oh, _stars_.

"Rex, raise the planetary shields!"

"The generators just went offline!"

"Someone's engaged the manual override at the power terminals!"

" _Your shield generator is under my control,_ " Thrawn calmly explained. " _Just so that you understand that my intentions are genuine, I shall demonstrate my power. Open fire._ "

Twenty seconds was all it took.

Twenty seconds of firing, watching an entire burrow of the capitol city be leveled by aerial bombardment, smoke and fireballs and crumbling buildings and loss of life incalculable how could it have gone so terribly-

"Enough! I surrender!" Ezra was desperate, his voice cracked in horror.

The shelling stopped.

" _I await your arrival. And make no mistake, come alone. If you attempt any heroics, I will resume the bombardment and destroy your city and then your friends._ "

The transmission ended, and for a split second nobody moved.

Except Ezra. He turned immediately, handing his lightsaber over to the C-1 droid Chopper, and Kallus saw Hera's lekku shudder, a sign of something he didn't understand. "Ezra... I understand that you think you need to do this, but-"

"This is what I was meant to do," the young man said. Kallus moved down the stairs, uncertain what he was going to do but knowing he needed to do... something.

"There's another way. There's _always_ another way," Hera said, and after so many days of listening to her in her cabin, hearing the sickness and the pain, Kallus could hear the desperation, could see a woman clinging to the only family she had left, clinging to the living legacy of Kanan Jarrus. "I won't let you go."

Kallus held his breath, Zeb right next to him.

"... All right," Ezra said, slowly, resigned, "if this isn't the way, then what is?"

"Let's see what we have to work with," Hera said.

Everyone moved to the command table, calling up a holo of their situation. Zeb wanted to blow the ship out of the sky, but that would leave the star destroyer to crash into the city. The only option was to get the shields up and running, and in order to do that they needed to ascertain how to get there. Wren suggested using the primary schematic and they moved over there, Kallus' eyes scanning and absorbing everything he could. The executive turbo lifts were the best way to avoid the stormtroopers – whoever had the shield generator did not have the entire base, if they could work quickly then there would be minimal fighting. With the shields up Thrawn couldn't attack the city, nor could he attack the dome as it launched. Escape was still a question, but at least there was a plan to prevent Bridger from sacrificing himself.

"So, we got a plan to get the shield up," Hera concluded. "The trick is to pull it off before Thrawn loses patience. We need to stall him somehow. Ezra?"

A lone patrol transport passed the viewport. What-!

"We have to stop him," Rex said.

"Ezra," Hera shouted into her comm. "Don't do this!"

And, of all people, Wren - no, Sabine - touched Hera's shoulder.

"Hera," she said gently, "we have to trust him. The best way we can help is to get that shield up, so when Ezra makes his move, we're ready. We have to assume the generator room will be well-guarded, so we'll need two teams to hit it from different sides if we're gonna capture both power terminals. That is, if you agree, Hera."

Kallus watched her face, saw the raw pain, saw the slow smile. "It's a good plan," she said, voice shaky. "The best chance we've got."

Stormtroopers were of course trying to enter through the blast door, Pryce might have said something but it was irrelevant. Onaka once again showed he was more than just a sell-out idiot, and Kallus wondered if he would actually have to listen to the Weequay the next time he talked. The Ugnaught Melch provided the distraction and Zeb cleared the door.

"Rex, Hondo, and Ketsu," Sabine ordered, "you take the north tower. Zeb, Kallus, Gregor, you take the south. I'll talk you through it from here."

Zeb rolled his shoulders. "Let's go, Rebels," he said.

Kallus would never get tired of being called a Rebel. He followed the Lasat through the now empty hallways.

* * *

Getting to the generators was an unqualified _mess_. As Zeb aptly grunted: "You know that plan we had to trap all these stormtroopers in the dome? It just occurred to me, we're _trapped with all these stormtroopers in this dome_!"

It was wave after wave of stormtroopers, blasting, detonators, sealed blast doors until they arrived at the south end of the terminal. Kallus used half his ammunition just getting there, and when he saw the firefight he actually worried if he would run out. Technicians on their level were firing down, pinning Team A before he, Zeb, and Gregor started to draw fire. Other troopers with the creature from the caves were here as well – once again they were outnumbered and Kallus wished _just once_ he had the firepower like the old days. Now he had to be _creative_.

" _Rex, we need those towers back online now!_ "

" _I can't get to the control panel!_ "

" _You've got to extend the bridges!_ "

Kallus knew there was more talking but he was too busy aiming. Team A had the better position to turn on the generators, but his team had the height and absolutely had to keep the Imperials pinned. He had enough cover to pick them off save the fact that these troopers had cover just as good as theirs and more kept coming. He saw the bridge extend to the control panel but it was a long way with no cover – demonstrated almost immediately by the Ugnaught who was shot on his way across, sending Onaka into a tizzy and giving the A team one less member to fire – useless Weequay!

"Even with that bridge extended," Gregor observed, "there's just too many of them! We're gonna have to do something drastic."

"... All right, I'll do it!"

Kallus whirled around. What...? "Zeb, don't!"

But the Lasat took a mighty leap, form perfect as he gained impressive height, leaping down one level and tucking into a tight roll before exiting to another jump – this one more predatory as he dove for the cave creature and into the generator towers. That fool Lasat!

Beside him Gregor gasped. "He's crazy!"

"Well, it was _your_ idea!" Kallus retorted, unable to allow himself more reaction as he ran and fired on the still shocked technicians. They fell quickly, not as trained as stormtroopers, and once they were down he moved to a console to start _anything_ to reverse the _kriffing karabast poodoo_ -storm that this fight had turned into. He started inputting override codes, the relative quiet settling in before he heard one more blaster fire. He turned to see the crazy Gregor struggling with one of the technicians before throwing him over the edge.

Kallus leaned over to watch the fall, but there was no miracle landing. He turned and saw the blaster wound, saw Gregor stagger and Kallus was suddenly helping him to the ground, cushioning his fall. The clone was indignant. "Get that shield up!" he ordered, shoving Kallus away.

He moved back to the console, overriding the Protocol Thirteen orders and setting up the ignition command. All he needed was word below.

"Now!" shouted the mercenary.

"Zeb?" Kallus called down. He was _not_ going to fry that damned Lasat before he _killed_ him for his recklessness.

"Don't wait on me!" his friend called up from below.

That was all he needed. Kallus turned on the shield and let the power towers light up, red electricity slowly jumping from one cone to the next. His eyes scanned furiously for Zeb, found him on the far side of ignition and watched the Lasat make another impressive leap, gripping a support column and climbing up with ease and _oh_ , what a relief it was.

" _Shields up!_ " Then, " _It worked! The shield is holding! The city is safe._ "

Kallus sagged against the console, adrenaline spent, shocked that they had made it. The groan behind him reminded him that it wasn't truly over, yet, he turned and saw Gregor sagging as well, and the former ISB agent quickly helped lay him down before Rex arrived. Kallus backed away, giving them privacy for something as solemn as last words, and soon the two teams were making their way back to the command center.

When they came back, Hera and Sabine were gazing outside, utterly transfixed, and _stars above_ , were those _purrgil_? What were _they_ doing here?

"... They're about to jump into hyperspace!" Sabine was shouting.

"Ezra! Ezra, get out of there right now! That's an order!"

Kallus moved forward, trying to get a better look at the purrgil, and the utterly _decimated_ star destroyer.

" _... Hera, I have to see this through to the end._ "

Kallus stiffened, turned to see Hera staring at her comm. Sabine was equally horrified: "Ezra, please! Get out of there!"

" _... I can't do that. It's up to all of you now. And remember, the Force will be with you, always._ "

And, just like that, the purrgil disappeared, jumped into hyperspace from the stratosphere of a planet.

…

…

Ezra… His voice was so calm. How could he have been so calm? How did he know the purrgil were coming? How... Ezra... why... how...

" _Um, was that the plan? Because we're all clear up here. There are no Imperial ships left._ "

Sabine: "This is our chance! You heard Ezra! Let's finish this! Chopper, prime the thrusters for launch! We're gonna blow this place."

Everyone shook out of the marvel, somehow, and Kallus moved to the self destruct protocols, okaying every warning and final warning and rerouting the final command to Sabine's wrist comm. Troopers blasted through the door but the firefight was brief. Sabine broke through the viewport with Ezra's lightsaber and they climbed to the roof of the center, seeing the _Ghost_ and scrambling aboard as Zeb and Rex lay down cover fire, Kallus taking charge of the bay door and shouting at them to get on board. They flew up and away from the dome, out of range of fire and pulled around, Kallus just entering the cockpit as Sabine held up her wrist comm.

"For Kanan and Ezra," she muttered, and ignited the dome.

There were concerns of course. Ezra had left one last heart-wrenching message that Kallus watched before realizing it was not his place to see. They considered how to defend the planet, saw the crowds, the cheers, the jubilation. They reintroduced Ryder Azadi to his people, gave them ideas on how to rebuild their broken government, but in the end, they were Rebels.

Sabine and Zeb volunteered to stay behind as guard, Onaka and his Ugnaught disappeared as soon as it was obvious he was not going to get paid, Rex escorted Wolfe back to Seelo, Ketsu Onyo moved on to the next mission.

And Hera, Chopper, and Kallus returned to Yavin.

* * *

" _Attention. Attention. Would all planet-side Alliance Cabinet members report to the command center. Would all planet-side Alliance Cabinet members report to the command center._ "

Kallus ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. Senator Organa had called this meeting, and Kallus understood that also meant all Fulcrums. Compartmentalized as the Rebel spy network was, big meetings like this needed all hands on deck. He'd seen General Syndulla earlier, rubbing her abdomen after getting out of a meeting with someone, her maniacal C-1 droid wheeling over to her and saying something in binary. Their debriefings had happened separately, and he wanted to see how she was doing.

The crowds filed into the command center, the shift technicians quietly moving aside to make room. At the center was Senator Mothma, red hair a beacon in the sea of whites and browns and grays, the earth tones of the Rebellion versus the monochrome of the Empire, Kallus supposed. She was talking to another girl, brunette, a face Kallus didn't immediately recognize. A new recruit?

Off to the side was a certain reprogrammed security droid. Kallus moved closer.

"Kay-Tu," Kallus greeted.

K-2SO turned to see a fellow spy, hunching forward. "You are still alive," the KX droid said. "I told Cassian you would most likely die, I gave him the odds but he told me to shut up."

Kallus smiled. "I see you're still alive, too," he offered.

"That was almost a false statement," K-2SO replied, "The captain nearly had us killed. Again."

"And we are all thankful for your continued survival," Kallus answered lightly.

"I don't see why."

"Why, for your endearing wit, I'm sure," Kallus said. He found a spot, behind the planet leaders, in front of the technicians, behind K-2SO and nearly invisible. His eyes took in the crowd, and saw Cassian, the droid's partner, leaning against a display, face not closed off but dour. That was new. Kallus followed his gaze back to the central table of the command center, to Senator Mothma and the girl. Who was she? He asked K-2SO.

"Jyn Erso," the droid replied.

Kallus blinked. "Saw Garrera's ward?" She had fallen off the grid two years ago, hadn't she?

"She is a handful," Kay-Tu continued, "She was the one who nearly got us killed."

"... I thought Cassian did?"

"They both did. In equal portions."

Kallus let the statement settle between them, watching as the meeting was called to order and Senator Mothma began her debrief. Mild interest turned into intense fascination as the revelations began to unravel: Jyn Erso was the daughter of Galen Erso, held hostage by the Empire to build a terrible weapon, a Death Star. Construction had been going on for years, Jedha was annihilated _as a test_ , the planet killer was nearly complete, etc. Kallus' mind reeled at what a radical game changer this was – far more dangerous than the Grand Admiral's TIE Defender project on Lothal. Was this why Thrawn had been called to Coruscant when the Lothal Rebels had planned their coup? No wonder Moff Tarkin had been throwing his weight around, he'd been backing Thrawn and now with the Grand Admiral gone the... the _Death Star_ was the only game in town. The man had probably already taken over the station – Krennic by all reports didn't have much vision and ooooh, there were so many ways this could play out and _all of it was bad_.

One of the Cabinet members put it best:

"If the Empire has this kind of power what chance to we have?"

And, in retaliation,

"What _chance_ do we have? The question is what _choice_?"

Kallus looked over to the tiny girl: brown hair, brown eyes – small proportions, round face, wide eyes... and a fire he had seen once before...

"Run? Hide? Plead for mercy? Scatter your forces? You give way to an enemy this evil with this much power and you condemn the galaxy to an eternity of submission. The time to fight is _now_. Every moment you waist is another step closer to the ashes of Jedha!"

" _It won't be easy, there'll be... loss and sacrifice... but we can't back down just because we're afraid. That's when we need to stand the tallest._ "

The words were different, the time and place were different, the speaker was nothing like Ezra Bridger, but the feeling was still the same: someone standing up to the fear, trying to get the Alliance to see the same thing. Here was a boy raised on the streets, learning to love others and willing to sacrifice himself for his home. Here was a girl, wandering the galaxy for years, learning about her father and willing to fight to save him. Here was a boy who inspired the likes of pirates to mercenaries to rebels to liberate a planet. Here was a girl looking to inspire a rebellion to commit to an attack on Scarif.

Wide eyes. Both of them had wide, expressive eyes, filled with determination and passion, the spark of rebellion that would lead to fire across the galaxy. Ezra had died for his planet, the wound too raw to even comprehend - Kallus hadn't even had time to react, let alone mourn. He had died as Kanan had reportedly died, saving Lothal and everyone close to them. This girl, Jyn Erso, would willingly die the same way - honoring her father's memory and recovering the _Death Star_ plans to find the weakness so meticulously built into the mobile space station.

Ezra did not abandon his homeworld, fought for it even when the Alliance could not.

Erso would be the same - she was going to get those plans alone if she had to.

Mothma would see it. Organa would see it, but the Alliance was still so fragile, still so small – even with Lothal free there was only so much that could be done with their numbers, and a kriffing _planet killer_... The memory of Lasan, the massacre… to be done at the push of a button... it touched a corner of Kallus' brain that made him shudder, and his eyes drifted over to Cassian, his mentor, remembering the closed off look of-

Oh.

Oh dear.

Kallus stood straight as he looked at Cassian, realized the man only had eyes for Erso, saw the working of the jaw and the pursed lips.

It had happened. He had done it.

When Kallus wasn't looking, when Cassian was away on a mission, he had found someone, he had found acceptance, understanding, _warmth_. He found a personification of the cause, found a way to make all of his dark deeds mean something, to make _him_ mean something. Just has Kallus had... He had at last found solace...

Kallus quickly pulled out a datapad. Being in charge of personnel while he debriefed the Lothal venture and Senator Mothma decided where he would be best suited had made him the most knowledgeable man on the base of everyone there. He needed names, before the inevitable happened. Him, him, definitely him, possibly her...

Jyn Erso was cut of the same cloth as Ezra Bridger, and that meant, like him, she would go off and do something rash. Unlike Ezra, Erso didn't have a fallen Jedi to keep her nose out of trouble, she would need as much back up as she could get. Him, him, her, them... Yes, and him, too. All of Draven's pets, all the spies and assassins, the ones who needed this kind of mission the most. A mission the demanded hope…

"Rebellions are _built_ on hope!"

The meeting adjourned in chaos, the _Death Star_ was too big to absorb, too big to process, and only Cassian and Erso had had any fraction of time to do so. It would fall to them, and Kallus knew what Erso would do, and he knew what an inspired Cassian Andor was capable of. List complete, he messaged everyone on it and then started making his way through the crowds, following Kay-Tu as he acted as a natural parting of the sea of humanity.

"Captain," the droid said when he managed to catch up to Cassian. "I suspect you're about to do something stupid."

"Then don't think about it," Cassian said, voice tight.

"Cassian," Kallus said, drawing attention. His mentor stared at him, jaw working, waiting for a reprimand or a rebuttal; Kallus instead held out the 'pad. "It won't be so stupid if you have some back up."

Cassian blinked, hooded eyelids moving slowly, disbelievingly. His gaze flicked down to the list, looking through the names, and he looked up.

He was speechless.

Kallus could not find words himself. He pursed his lips, hands clasped behind his back and fingers knotting in and out of each other.

"From one Fulcrum to another," he said, "Follow your hope. Find your place. Accept the friendship."

And Cassian smiled.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, what to say. Most of this is the series finale of course, from Kallus' very objective focused point of view, and it's a little late in the game but it becomes patently obvious that certain things are outside his admittedly wide capacity to handle. Anything remotely Force-centered being the top of that list. But, then, Ezra can bring it out of him :P
> 
> And while there wasn't really room for it we did sneak in a small ounce of KalluZeb - for the longest time we didn't ship it, thought it was just a bromance, but then the epilogue of the show happened and we both said, "Okay, we get it! Fine!"
> 
> And then there's Cassian. Dave Filoni in an interview... somewhere... said that New Hope happened right after the series finale so that Palpatine didn't have time to go make Lothal pay. Because of that, it makes sense that Cassisan goes off to start Rogue One and isn't there for the finale - although wouldn't it have been cool if he was? Having said that though, all of Kallus' work has paid off - he's put in a lot of effort to show Cassian what healthy relationships are like and why they're important, and with all those thoughts in Cassian's head he can see what happens to Jyn and see... well, see himself, and see why Kallus did what he did. Kallus and Cassian may be too much alike for Cassian to let in, but Jyn is just different enough that he CAN.
> 
> And, of course, Kallus is going to do everything he can to help Cassian be successful, not realizing that the success would come at a very high price.
> 
> And thus ends the fic. Hope everyone enjoyed!
> 
> p.s. keep an eye out for a fic that takes a throw away line from here and and turns it into its own thing...


End file.
